Creatures of Compassion
by C.J Todd
Summary: With God's permission, Gadreel takes Sam back in time to save his brother, and change their fate. Will he be able to screw destiny, again?
1. Chapter 1

He had been the guardian of Eden; to protect Eden from evil.

Gadreel: The Wall of God.

God had chosen him to guard his prized creations; the humans.

He hadn't meant to let Lucifer into the garden. Actually, what he hadn't meant for was the corruption of mankind. The humans were cast from the garden, hell was created, and Lucifer fell from heaven.

He was tricked, he made a mistake, he was imprisoned, and he only desired redemption.

Gadreel had failed.

So many years he had spent imprisoned and tortured, and then finally the time came when he was released. Gadreel wished it had been on better circumstances. He was released when all angels were expelled from heaven. Gadreel has relished in his freedom, but feared even more so of his fellow angels. He didn't ever want to go back to that wretched prison. He had only wanted to be of help to Dean Winchester, but his fear skewed his decisions. All the mistaken decisions he had made. Gadreel understood why he had once been called the 'original chump' He had been foolish.

Gadreel had listen to Metatron, as he had listened to Lucifer. He was so easily deceived.

He had wanted to rebuild heaven. He had wanted to help. He had wanted to redemption.

It was not until his death Gadreel saw the truth. Angels were meant to protect humanity above themselves and anything they desire. Gadreel had wanted and wanted, and he lost his way.

The fearsome, noble little angel Castiel.

The righteous, brave soul of Dean Winchester that had been tainted by the Mark of Cain.

The compassionate, kind soul of Sam Winchester.

The one said to have been the boy king. There was a boy who demons whispered about; the one who took on the devil and won. A defiant boy who infuriated heaven. He was said to be tainted. Gadreel felt something akin to kinship with him. Sam Winchester did not believe he could ever achieve redemption. The boy with the demon blood become the boy who saved the world once.

They taught him much.

His true mission. The one that God had assigned to all angels.

Gadreel had hoped his death would allow Castiel to escape. He hoped heaven would be given another chance. He felt his sacrifice could be of use; that his death could be of use.

Gadreel died, and then there was nothing.

"Awaken Gadreel."

Gadreel did nothing.

A gentle hand caressed his head, "It is time to awake, my son."

Gadreel slowly opened his eyes. There was not nothing anymore. He did not feel the presence of his vessel's soul anymore, but he was in his vessel still. He also felt the glorious and radiance of his once scarred and broken wings. A scruffy man leaned over him with gentle eyes. His hand softly caressed Gadreel's hair continuously.

The man was warmth with absolute righteousness and light.

Primordial grace.

The man radiated warmth and love.

The lord glory by thy name.

It was Him. It was Father.

Gadreel wanted to apologize. He wanted to apologize for breaking Father's heart, for failing, for being heaven's longest running joke, for being such a fool and a sap. He wanted to, but he wouldn't allow himself to. He didn't deserve to be in his Father's presence let alone speak to him.

Perhaps now was the time for his final punishment.

God stroked his thumb across his child's misguided cheek, "Gadreel, it's alright. It's alright, my son. Fear not. My child, do you not wish for redemption?"

Gadreel considered it. He did, but the true mission was more important.

To protect humanity.

God smiled, "That's it. You've learned much, Gadreel. I've heard the Winchesters have that effect on angels. Now then, I have a mission for you."

Gadreel's eyes widened. He hadn't so well on his last mission from Father. He could not deny a mission, but Gadrel didn't know what he would do if he managed to fail again.

God hushed him, "Do not worry, Gadreel. I have faith in you. We don't have much time. You may speak, my son, it's alright."

Gadreel asked with a slight tremor in his voice, "Father, may I ask the details of my mission?"

"Things are being set in motion. Time had passed since your death, and things have changed. You must find Sam Winchester, and take his soul back. Back before The Winchester gospel of Sam and Dean began. Stay with him, protect him, and assist him. Change it."

Gadreel frowned, "Father, time travel is very difficult, and I do not know if that will be possible."

God said, "I shall assist you in getting there. You'll be hidden from both heaven and hell. I believe you should take with you John Winchester's journal, and the demon killing blade. Nothing more I can allow. Sam will need your assistance and most of all companionship."

"I mean no disrespect, Father, but why not send Castiel? He is a good warrior, and one of the Winchester's greatest friends. Sam trusts Castiel, and surely he would be a better choice than I."

God shook his head, "There are a few reasons why I cannot, but Castiel would be noticed if he were to disappear. None would think the angel Gadreel was assisting in not only stopping the end of times, but all tribulations after. None shall notice you were no longer imprisoned for I shall take care of that."

Gadreel held his chin high with resolve, "I will do so. I will not fail the mission. Thank you, Father."

God took Gadreel's face into his hands and gingerly kissed his forehead, "Go to Sam Winchester, but stay hidden and do not interfere until the time comes for you to take him back. Have faith in yourself, my son. You are capable of more than you know. Free will's a wonderful thing, so I cannot interfere, but I know you'll make the right choices. Go to him, my child."

Gadreel smiled at his Father. He relished in the feeling of having his full wings once again as he set out to find Sam Winchester.

He had another mission from God, and this time he would not fail.

* * *

><p>The bunker was quiet aside from the grunts and groans of Sam Winchester struggling under his demonic brother's hold. Dean had Sam's large frame pinned down. A large axe held in one hand he watched his brother struggle with little concern for it.<p>

Sam was scared. There wasn't much that scared him. Losing Dean certainly did, but he had already lost him to hell. He was scared because the creature inhabiting his brother was not him. Dean always protected him, Dean looked out for him, Dean loved him; this creature was going to kill him. Sam knew that, and he tried not to tremble as the demon with his brother's face observed him like a pinned butterfly.

Dean's eyes flashed to their inky black color and he smirked, "Goodnight, Sammy."

Sam closed his eyes right before the axe hit him, and Dean chopped and chopped. The axe continued to slam down on the bloody mess that was becoming his chest.

Dying was practically instantaneous, and Sam was glad Dean had killed him on the first hit.

Sam's soul, or spirit more accurately, watched this all happen as he waited for a reaper to take him.

_A woman, Mary Winchester, carried her young son Dean into the dark nursery. "Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother."_

_Mary flipped the light switch filling the room with light. Baby Sam lied in his crib looking with curiosity at his mother and elder brother. Mary sat Dean down on the floor and he rushed to the crib. Dean leaned over the side of the crib and kissed Sam on the forehead._

_Dean said, " Goodnight, Sammy."_

Dean froze with the axe in mid swing. He blinked and the blackness evaporated from his eyes. His eyes were wide and staring at the bloody gruesome mess before him. The axe dropped to the ground, and Dean stared at his hands before looking back at the stained red floor and corpse. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, an old habit, and Sam wondered if Dean tasted the blood that's splattered all over his body and face.

"Sammy?"

Dean's voice was low and brittle. It was very different from the Dean who had mocked him then brutally slaughtered him. He said Sam's name with a slight confusion, and like his tongue was made of glass.

Dean fell to his knees not taking his eyes off the corpse of his baby brother. His eyes glistened, but no tears fell. The sound that erupted from Dean's throat was like a wounded animal; raw and filled with pain. He screamed. It wasn't the ferocious roar of anger Sam had heard before, but a howl of grief and loss. Dean collapsed onto his hands and knees as his guttural howls echoed throughout the bunker.

Sam bit his lip as his chest clenched in want to reach out for his big brother. Whatever humanity had been left in Dean had been torn apart completely now. Sam hoped the reaper would hurry the hell up. He didn't want to see what Dean would do after, and he didn't want to see his brother in so much pain anymore.

A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. Sam would've jumped out of his skin if he had any when he saw it was Gadreel standing behind him.

Gadreel said, "Sam, nothing can be done here now. There is another option. We can change it. We can go back and change it."

Dean knew nothing of what was going on as he tore apart the bunker. He huffed like a panting wolf in between the pained wails he tried to keep in. Everything he touched was destroyed.

Sam tried his best to keep his eyes on Gadreel and off of Dean, "Time travel?"

"Yes, Father spoke to me and gave me a mission to assist." Gadreel's hand stayed on Sam's shoulder, "We can change it. Your brother will not come to this. Many tribulations can be avoided. You will still bear the scars of war you do now, and those memories will be with you, but your brother will be unburdened by those years of suffering. "

" My dad dying, Lilith, Dean going to hell, Ellen and Jo, the apocalypse, Lucifer, the leviathan, Bobby, the angels falling, Dean getting the mark. We can change all of that?"

Gadreel nodded, "We are capable. You're family and comrades can be saved while diverting the supposed plan. It would be different from your former trips because in this you're soul will be released and sent back to unite with your younger self."

Sam demanded, "Why would you help me?"

Gadreel tilted his head, "Why wouldn't I? There's nothing more we can do here for any of them."

"I'm going, but you're going to fully explain yourself once we're there. This better not be some trick."

"It is no trick, and I shall do what you ask. We must leave now."

Sam spared one last glance at his brother. Dean's fingers were threaded through his hair as he grasp his head doubled over in an attempt to regain control over himself.

That Dean would never be; not if Sam had anything to say about it.

Gadreel's hand clasped Sam's shoulder tighter as the two flew from the the bunker. Leaving the former human to fermate in his sorrow and confusion.

Gadreel and Sam were both surprised to find themselves in an unfamiliar hotel room. It isn't as crappy as a number of ones Sam and Dean had stayed in over the years, but it wasn't exactly Hampton either.

Castiel addressed them, "Hello Sam, hello Gadreel."

Gadreel furrowed his brow, "I don't understand. I was supposed to bring Sam to the past. We're simply in Michigan. Why are we here?"

Castiel tugged on his trenchcoat sleeve, "I cannot come with you for obvious reasons. I just wanted to ask of you to show my former self what had occurred. All of it; hide nothing. I'll even give you some of my memories he will be able to retrieve. I have made mistakes but I am a better man for it. I do not wish for our friendship to have been for naught, Sam. And Dean as well. I do not know what to say but I wish you the best. It'll be some time after you leave before this timeline ceases to exist, but in that time frame I will watch over him."

Sam pulled Cas into a hug, "I'll save him. I'll fix it. All of it, and it'll be hell to get past you to even so much as look at me, but I'll try my damn well hardest. You're family Cas, and I'm not losing any of my family again."

Gadreel held out his hand to Castiel, "I guess this is goodbye."

Castiel pushed Gadreel's hand away and hugged him, "Goodbye, brother. Watch over him when I cannot."

If the real Dean were there he would've complained about misty goodbyes.

"I shall."

Sam wasn't looking forward to trade his goofy loving friend for the stick up the ass angel who thought he was an abomination. He'd miss him, but they might be friends again some day.

Castiel looked skyward, "It's time. Father can not allow you to stay here any longer. Good luck."

Sam swallowed the lump that was building in his throat, "Thanks, Cas, for everything."

Castiel gave Sam a small smile, "You too."

Gadreel put his hand on Sam's shoulder and this time when Sam felt the sensation of flying he woke up. He shot up in bed. Taking in his surroundings he realized he was back in his old college dorm room. Luckily the bed next to him was empty. His old roommate had transferred, so he didn't have one back then. The calendar next to his bed said it was July 7, 2004. He had stayed on campus for summer since he had wanted to save money and work when he didn't have school to worry about. Old memories came back clear as day. He knew his G.P.A by heart, the way to the coffee shop he had frequented with Brady, and that he wouldn't meet Jess until September. Sam knew he wasn't going to let that happen. Jess didn't deserve to die, and she could find someone better for her. Sam had loved her, but he had grieved then moved on. It wouldn't do any good to open that old wound. Jess was alive, and she would stay that way. Alive and innocent without a Winchester fucking up her life.

Sam called out, "Gadreel, where are you?"

There was no reply, so Sam decided he'd see how his appearance had changed in the meantime. His voice was certainly a little higher and more boyish. The bathroom was small, but Sam remembered being grateful for the water pressure it had. Sam was anticipating it, but he was still shocked when he looked into the mirror. He had a baby face, bangs, and his limbs were still a little too large for his body. He was still rather tall, but he had gained a few more centimetres over the years, and a lot more bulk. FBI wouldn't exactly work anymore since he barely shaved; he was twenty years old again.

Gadreel said, "Sam, I have returned. I assumed you would require sustenance and there was this machine where you put money into it to restrive snack items. I also have water for you."

Sam walked out of the bathroom and Gadreel looked at him from head to toe, "You're younger."

"So I've noticed."

Gadreel handed Sam the water and candy bar, "You have questions."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, which was much shorter than he was used to, " Yeah, I do. Why you and not Cas is a big one. You're not a bad guy, Gadreel. It's just…"

"I understand. With all that has happened between us. I understand. Truthfully I don't know the full details of it, but of what I do know is I learned the angels true mission, and I would be less likely to be noticed missing then Castiel. We're treading dangerous waters. There is much to do."

"There's a hell of alot." Sam agreed, "But I want to call Dean first, and hopefully my dad's with him."

Gadreel sat down on the opposite bed, "Of course, Is there anything I can do for you?"

Sam turned over his cell phone in his hands, a flip phone, with no internet on it, "You know you're not my butler. You don't have to do everything I say. You can do whatever you want."

Gadreel took a moment to contemplate his options before he came to a conclusion, "I have nothing else to do. I cannot go to heaven, and I know none on Earth. You are my only friend."

Sam sighed, "Fine, just don't say anything when I'm on the phone, okay?"

"Okay."

Sam waited with the phone pressed to his ear as Dean's ringtone went off.

_Please pick up, please, please, please, pick up._

"Sammy?"

Sam drew in a sharp breath. Dean was alive, and his voice sounded so young. It was different from the deep bark he had gotten used to. He had figured he would be able to be fine once he heard Dean's voice, but it only made it even more difficult. Sam wasn't sure how he'd hold up when he actually saw Dean again; green eyed, young, alive, relatively happy.

Dean asked, " Sammy? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Um, Hey." Sam counted the small victory of being able to keep his voice steady.

"Hey." Dean paused for a moment before continuing, "Why'd you call Sammy? Is something wrong?"

Sam tried to recall the last time he had called Dean since he left for college. He couldn't.

"Oh no, nothings wrong." Sam assured, "I just wanted to call my big brother. So, how are you?"

Dean replied hesitantly, "Okay, well I'm good. Me and Dad are just resting up after this one hunt; a couple bumps and bruises from a salt and burn, but nothing major. What about you? It's summer so you don't have school to study your brains out. You meet any cute girls? Partying it up at the beach?"

Sam smiled, "No, I'm still on campus and I'm not dating any girls right now. What case are you guys planning on doing next?"

Dean was confused. Sam had never shown an interest in anything so much involving hunting at all; including him and their dad. It was why he left; to get out of the life. He hadn't even corrected Dean about being called Sammy. Dean glanced at John who was busy making himself a cup of coffee, "Sammy, are you sure you're okay? Like 100% totally fine?"

Sam remembered one of the things Dean had said, "I'm fine. As long as you're around nothing bad's going to happen to me."

"Damn right. I just wanted to make sure."

Sam said, "I miss you, Dean. You need to watch yourself too; especially on hunts."

The surprise was clear in Dean's voice, "Uh, I miss you too. Um, don't spend all your time in the library and don't take joints from strangers. Damn, are we done with this chick stuff? I can feel myself growing ovaries over here."

"You're such a jerk." Sam chuckled.

"Whatever, bitch."

Sam fiddled with a string of thread on his hoodie, "Um, do you think I could talk to Dad?"

The other end of the phone was silent for some time before Sam could faintly make out Dean's voice as he told John he wanted to talk followed by a choking sound. Sam waited patiently as Dean handed off the phone to John. John's gruff cough echoed through the phone. Sam remembered how he had been when he was young: innocent, hopeful, in love with a bright future. He also remembered how he had been rebellious, arrogant, angry, and ungrateful.

"Hi, Dad."

"Uh, Hi."

It had been so long. Sam had almost forgot how his father's voice had sounded.

John asked the same question Dean had asked, "Sam, are you okay?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just kind of wanted to hear your guy's voices. I miss you, and I just wanted to say I was sorry. Tell Dean I said I was sorry too. I was kind of an egocentric dick, but we're family. No matter how bad it gets that doesn't change."

John didn't like what it sounded like he was trying to say. He had a bad feeling about it. "I'll tell him. Um, do you want to talk to him?"

Sam knew his dad was getting suspicious, and heart to hearts always made him uncomfortable. The uncomfortableness almost overshadowed the suspicion and concern, almost. Sam glanced at Gadreel. He had to wrap it up. He had to get going before they decided he needed them to come to Palo Alto. He was also sure if he kept talking any longer he might not be able to keep his cool.

"I should probably let you go. Be safe, and I'll see you soon."

"Sam, wait!"

Sam pressed the end call button and closed his phone before he ended up saying something he'd regret. He wanted to plead for Dean to get his ass back on the phone and stay on the phone as he came to get him, but he couldn't.

Sam tried to throw the phone at the wall, but Gadreel caught it

Gadreel's eyes were sympathetic, but unwelcome, "If you succeed John Winchester will live, and your brother will never break the first seal in hell. You shall see them again."

Sam rested his head in his hands, "We need to find the colt. Stopping Yellow Eyes comes first and foremost. We also need to get some our old hunts out of the way; maybe even before someone dies. Dean and Dad won't be anywhere near Salvation when the time comes. We need to track down the other kids like me, and try to keep Dean and Dad off my tail. They both suspect something's up, so we'll need to try and stay off the radar."

Gadreel sat the journal and Ruby's knife down next to him, "These will prove useful. I'll assist however I can."

"Not going to ditch me?"

"No, I will watch over you."

Sam threw on a jacket putting the knife in his inner pocket, "We've got work to do."

* * *

><p>John stared at his phone. The screen displayed 'call ended' until John closed it.<p>

Dean asked, "What'd he say?"

John mumbled, "He said he'd see us soon."

"What?"

John threw his phone making it bounce off the wall, "He said he wanted to hear our voices. That he was sorry to you and me. He said...he said he missed me. He fucking said we're family no matter how bad it gets that doesn't change. Then he hung up. I have a bad feeling about this. Something's not right. Dean, you need to tell me exactly what Sam said to you."

Dean bit his lip, " I had a feeling something was up, but he said he just wanted to call his brother. He asked how we were doing, asked about hunts which he never does, said he missed me and told me to look out for myself. He told me 'as long as you're around nothing bad's going to happen to me.' He sounded kind of happy to just hear me, though I could tell something was bugging him. Dad…"

John crossed his arms, "I'm worried too."

"Could it be something after him?" Dean asked, "Is he in trouble? This isn't some normal trouble stuff because that call seemed so...so…"

"Final." John said.

Dean clenched his fist, "He said he'd see us soon. Do you think he's going to try and find us or was that a subtle message to come get him?"

John knew what he had said in a fit of anger when Sam had left. He had still been a little sore when Sam had called, but that didn't matter. His youngest boy needed him.

"We're going to Palo Alto."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean didn't go to the west coast often. John generally kept the Midwest and north for hunts, unless they got an important case or lead they didn't really go as far west as California. There were many perks; those being beautiful people in bathing suits, and really that was the only one Dean could think of. Being out in the sun too long made his freckles multiply with a fierce vengeance, it lightened his hair, and he couldn't wear his leather jacket without potentially dying of heatstroke. Dean and John were more likely to be seen in a backwater bar then at the beach, so they didn't really fit in Southern California.

None of that mattered though. The only thing that mattered was Sammy.

Dean wanted what was best for Sammy. Sam was his main priority, his little brother, and he'd do anything for him. He had known for a while Sam was going to want to get out, and he knew Sam didn't want to be a hunter. He had tried his best to make sure Sam grew up smart. Sam had crawled a long time before other babies did, so that made Dean think he was probably one of the smartest babies out there, and he hadn't given up on that. Sam getting a full ride to Stanford had made him so proud, and although John didn't show it Dean knew he had to be proud too. He had just been scared, scared something would happen without them to keep him safe, and Sam had seen it as Dad trying to keep them under his regime.

Sam had seemed to let go of the idea of his big strong big brother. He hadn't seen Dean as his hero for a long time. Sam thought Dean was always on Dad's side, but really Dean just didn't like the fighting. He didn't like having to be the peacemaker, and he didn't like seeing what little family he had going at each other's throats. Sam only saw it as him being John's good soldier in his crusade. Sam had said some hurtful things when he left, and a small part of Dean hadn't liked that Sam had just up and left him. Like he didn't mean anything to him. He gave and gave, but in the end it didn't seem to matter. Dean had tried to call Sam, but none of his calls were ever answered, so eventually he just stopped calling.

It was a hell of a surprise when Sam actually called him, not only that but he apologized He didn't criticize, or yell, or complain. Sam had actually had a normal conversation with him, and sounded happy to be talking to Dean. Not only that, but with everything else he said and didn't say on that phone call Dean just knew something was up. He was thrilled to hear from Sammy, but the entire thing worried him. He hoped John had been wrong about the call seeming final, and Sam had said he'd see them soon.

California was were Sammy was, so that's where they needed to go.

They had been all the way in Arkansas, but John drove like a maniac and by some miracle they weren't stopped by any cops. Without the top stop for gas and bathroom breaks they didn't stop to rest. A drive that would usually take 20 hours had been cut down to 18. Neither of the two men wanted to sleep, and neither could; not without knowing what was going on with Sam. John was a militaristic ass sometimes, but he loved his son even if he could be overbearing about it. Dean loved Sam with everything he had. Protect Sammy was the mantra that never left him, and he'd sworn to abide by it ever since that day his dad had put a six month old Sam into his arms and told him to run outside as fast as he could. They had stayed away from Sam, only occasionally driving by to check without the other knowing, and now they were hightailing it to Palo Alto because over everything Sam's safety came first.

They were lucky to arrive in the morning, so they wouldn't have to break into campus looking like burglars. Dean glanced as his slightly burly father with his unkempt appearance and hard eyes; they probably looked like thugs, but daytime would help ease some suspicion. The stout elderly woman in the Registration office smiled at Dean politely when he gave her a big toothy smile, but then scruffy, grim faced, ready to stab a bitch, John Winchester, rounded the corner and her smile dropped.

John flashed his fake federal marshal badge, "Ma'am, we're looking for Sam Winchester. He's a student here, and we need to know where he's in residence."

The woman typed on her computer as she muttered, "Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester, Oh here we go. Sam Winchester, sophomore, he is listed as on campus in Lagunita Court; 326 Santa Teresa Street, in the Granada House. You'll have to ask the building manager Myles Coulter for Mr. Winchester's room number in the Lagunita administration building. Is there anything else I can do for?"

John was already out the door once the information was said. Dean smiled apologetically, "He's a busy man. Thank you for your assistance."

Dean hurried out into the California heat after John, who was already rushing towards the Impala, "Dad, wait up."

John said, "There's no time. Get in the car. I remember seeing a building that said Lagunita Court. If Sam's there he's there fine, but we also have to prepare if he's not. There probably won't be that many students being summer, so I need you to check for EMF, sulfur, anything. We'll mostly look into Sam's room, but we're also going to skim over the entire residence."

Dean really hoped Sammy was sitting in his room reading a book, and not off somewhere unknown possibly taken or in trouble.

The Lagunita Court and it's surrounding buildings were cottage-y in style, with well kept gardens and hedges. It was a sharp contrast to some of the motels the Winchesters had stayed in over the years. The last time Dean had drove on his own to Palo Alto to check up on Sam had been his Freshman year, and he'd been in a different dorm. Dean could see the Granada House from where they had parked with it's beige walls, long windows, and small green awning.

Sam was so close, and yet they still had the damned administration building to go through.

Two people sat at the front desk: a dark haired man with curly hair, and a graying man in a red plaid shirt and glasses. John demanded, "I need to see Myles Coulter."

The gray haired man held up his hand, "I'm Myles Coulter. How can I help you?"

John pulled out his badge, "I need to know what room number is Sam Winchester's."

Myles's eyes widened when he saw the badge, and he quickly typed in his computer, "I think Sam's former roommate transferred, and he hadn't received a new one yet. Sam's a good kid. Never causes any trouble. I've only spoken to him a handful of times, what kind of trouble is he in that requires a federal marshal?"

John replied, "That's confidential. The room number?"

"667. I have a key card that opens all the doors, so if he doesn't answer I can get you in. Pete, if someone comes by asking for me take a message."

Dean and John followed Myles into the Granada House. Dean tried to imagine Sam sitting in the commons room or walking down the halls with his arms filled with books; laughing and joking with friends. He had only seen Sam around Christmas time in his old dorm, and once when he with the blonde guy with the square head at a coffee shop.

They were heading down another long hallway when a short guy in a polo shirt stopped Myles, "Hey, Sam Winchester asked me to give you this."

John snatched the paper Polo Shirt had held out to Myles, "What the hell is this? What about Sam?"

Myles looked over John's shoulder to read the paper, "Sam's terminating his occupancy? Kyle, when did you get this?"

Kyle cowered under both intimidation John and Dean's twin scowls. He stuttered, "Uh—Uh—um well last night. It was kind of late, and I was pretty hungry so I was walking out of my room to go to the vending machine, and I ran into him. He told me to give this to you in the morning, and that was about it."

Dean stepped in front of his dad before John could grab the kid by his collar. Dean asked, "Kyle, was it? You need to tell us everything that happened when you saw Sam Winchester, what he seemed like, what he looked like, if there was anyone with him, if he seemed scared at all? Anything at all could be of use."

Myles said, "They're federal marshals. It's really important you cooperate."

Kyle shrugged, "I was still pretty sleepy, so I'm not sure how much help I can be. I walked out of my room trying to find the vending machine, and then Sam almost ran right into me when he was walking pretty quickly my way. He looked pretty normal. He didn't even seem tired even though it was pretty damn late at night. I didn't see anyone with him, and he didn't look scared at all. Maybe a little bit nervous, but kind of like he was late for something, not scared necessarily. He said 'sorry, man' when he almost ran into me then he asked 'Hey, can you give this to the house manager for me? Thanks. Have a good night.' He just walked away after. I asked where he was going and he said 'Don't worry about it.' He just walked away and I haven't seen him in the dining hall or anything."

John nodded, "Alright, where's Sam's room?"

Kyle pointed to the sixth door down the hall, "Right over there, I think."

Myles walked to the door and put in his key card. As soon as the door opened John shoved Myles out of the way and barged into the room, "This is a federal investigation. Please, leave."

Kyle instantly scurried off, but Myles was hesitant, "Okay, I'll be in the administration office if you need anything."

Dean slammed the door shut and looked around the room. It was where Sammy had been living, but with the terminating of the occupant thing Sam wasn't going to come back. There were two long twin beds, two desks, two bookcases, two dressers, a closet, a sink, and a mirror. One of the bed's was only a white mattress, while the other looked like it had been woken up in recently and the occupant hadn't bothered to make the bed. Dean remembered how the manager guy said Sammy hadn't had a roommate. Dean ignored the empty stuff and started going through what he could find of Sam's things. John found that a majority of Sam's clothes were gone, his desk looked untouched as did his bookcase; all his textbooks and even the few books he read for fun where still there. A water bottle that had been a quarter drunk sat right next to a Milky Way wrapper. Dean checked all of Sam's usually hiding places, and he found no weapons of any kind, but he could tell it had been there at one point.

Dean slammed the closet door shut in anger, "I can't find his phone or wallet, so either he has it or whatever took him has it. That kid said Sammy only looked a little nervous like he was anticipating something. Do you think he could've known something was after him and booked it? There's no EMF, no sulfur, no thing!"

John ran a hand through his hair, "Why would he just run? What could've made him drop everything, the school he wanted to go; a fuckin' _normal_ thing going on here?"

Dean sat down on the bed; the bed that probably not even hours ago had his little brother on it, "Sammy's not the type to just drop everything, and he wanted this so bad. By what that Kyle kid was saying it didn't sound like Sammy was scared. If he was scared shitless he'd have swallowed his god damn pride and asked us to come take care of whatever it was, and then he could just go on with his life. Do you think he might be trying to protect us from something? You know how he sounded on the phone."

"Yeah, I do." John grumbled, "Now, why the hell would Sam try to protect us from something? If something big was happening he should know it's better to deal with it together."

Dean tried his hardest not to roll his eyes.

_It's because he's just like you. Always trying to deal with everything himself._

"I don't know, Dad. All I know is, whatever is going on, is that we need to find Sammy."

John nodded, "I'll get a notice out to some other hunters to keep an eye out for him. We're going to need a picture of him that's pretty recent."

"Dad," Dean sighed, "We need to call him. He'll be able to get the word out quicker and with more people, and-"

John interrupted, "Dean, you know I told you-"

"It's Sammy, Dad. It's Sammy, and we gotta find him."

John sighed. Sam was and would always be Dean's weak spot. He'd follow every order, go with every plan, but only if it went in the right direction for Sam. Sam was his first priority above all else.

John punched the number into his phone, and waited irritated as the phone rang. He had sworn he wouldn't ever go back to that fucker for help. He could do it on his own. He didn't need _him_. He'd rather eat his own god damn arm off then go in a ten mile radius of him, and then have his foot for dessert if it meant having to listen to him scold him like a child in the way he always seemed to do.

John nearly hung up the phone when he heard Singer's fucking voice, "Singer Salvage."

"This is John Winchester." John grumbled.

Bobby replied, "Well, you've got to be shitting me if this is _John Winchester. _The stubborn stupid ass son of a bitch who I had fully planned to shot a loud of buckshot into his ass. If that John Winchester decided to grace me a phone call I'd have to make sure it wasn't a sure sign of the apocalypse. Now what in the hell could John Winchester possibly being calling me for?"

John tried his best to keep his tempter under control, "Cut the sass, Bobby. I get it, alright. That doesn't matter right now. Sam's missing. I need you to get the word out and to have people keep and eye out for him."

Bobby sighed through the phone, "That's actually what'd I've been meaning to call you about, Johnny, but of course being the idjit you are I didn't have your number. It's Sam."

John gulped. As much as he hated when Bobby or any one else thought to call him Johnny, Bobby saying it now meant something was up, "I get it. I'm an idiot. Now what about, Sam?"

Dean leaned closer to his Dad when he caught Sam's name.

"Sam called me last night. He mostly just tried making conversation asking how I was, what I was up to, and the like. Said he'd try and keep contact. Every time I tried asking about him he said he was good and wouldn't go into details or he'd divert. He didn't sound scared or anything just-"

Dean finished Bobby's sentence, "Just happy to be on the phone with you."

"I tried asking what was going on, and what he was up to." Bobby continued, "He just said he had to go, and that he'd see me soon. I'll try everybody: Caleb, Pastor Jim, Jefferson, Josh, anybody I can get in contact with. We'll find him. But I wish I knew what that boy's thinking. Probably being a stupid idjit just like you. Just keep calm, look into the city a bit more, and we'll see if anyone's seen or heard from him. I don't want neither of you doing anything stupid."

John grumbled, "Yeah, yeah, I get it, uh thanks."

Bobby's eye roll was almost audible, "Don't hurt yourself there, Johnny. You gotta be calm, so Dean will be calm. You know Sam means everything to him, and you bumbling around won't help none."

"My little boy's missing!"

"And we're going to find him."

* * *

><p>Gadreel loved flying.<p>

Sam would always see a slight smile on his face whenever they flew somewhere, but they didn't want to take more risks than they needed to. Although flying didn't send out any surges of grace like using his powers did, there was still a chance some angel could figure out another angel was flying around. When they needed a quick get away it would be flying, but for the most part they drove. Sam knew Dean would think he's pick the most anonymous car he could find, so instead he chose a 1977 Ford Thunderbird. Sam had to stay on his feet if he wanted to evade his dad, Dean, and angels.

Their first stop had been Manning, Colorado, but after that they got out of there quick. It had been too close to their usual hunting grounds. It was right next to Nebraska, Kansas, South Dakota, and not far enough from California. The two headed east and drove south to find a place to rest. Sam knew Dad and Dean would run themselves ragged, but too much was at stake. They needed to look for signs of demon omens, or even simple demonic possession. Sam didn't care if he'd have to ask a demon to deliver a message to the Yellow Eyed Demon to have frickin' lunch with him. He was going to kill the son of a bitch, and he couldn't have Dean or Dad getting in the crossfire.

He wouldn't be the boy king, and he's also have to have a talk with the other special children.

There was a lot to do.

Gadreel was a fairly quiet traveling companion. He wasn't loud and sometimes obnoxious like Dean was, and he wasn't solemnly silent and grim like John tended to be. He was just quiet, calm, and did exactly what he was told. Other than that he didn't do much. He would only sometimes ask innocent questions like 'why does that person hold the door to another person?' and 'why are those people shaking their hands at one another?'

Gadreel wasn't a bad guy. When he learned about all the human customs he tried his best to do the same. Gadreel was polite and civil, but for some reason, as Sam sat across from him in their motel room, Sam was irritated. Logically he knew why he was having to do everything with Gadreel rather than Castiel, but he was irritated. Gadreel had assisted Dean in tricking him, tricking him into gaining consent to use him as his vessel, he took control over Sam's body and used his hand to kill Kevin. In this time period Kevin was alive and a young kid probably still in middle school. They could fix it, but Sam was still sore about it.

They were going to be riding together for a while, working as a team, so they needed to get alone, but Sam just couldn't get his irritation with Gadreel to fade.

Gadreel asked, "Sam, is something wrong?"

Sam wasn't going to hold it in. He wasn't going to sit quietly and keep his anger to himself. It wouldn't do either of them any good. Before they didn't have to time to talk about what had happened before, but now they did. They were both alone, with only each other, and a mission They were going to be practically attached to the hip, so they needed to get their crap out of the way.

Sam stood up, "Yeah, something is wrong. I'm angry. I'm angry because you possessed me. You tricked me into giving my consent to possess me. You used my body to hide from the angels, and to heal yourself, even though you tried to also heal me. You hid your identity and pretended to be Ezekiel, so Cas wouldn't know who you were, and you sent Cas away so he wouldn't find out. I was ready to die, Gadreel, and Dean took that from me; you took that from me. The lying is what made me angry, killing Kevin made me angry even though you thought you were ultimately doing the right thing, and taking control over me made me angry. I've been possessed before by Meg, a frickin' Khan worm, Lucifer, and there's nothing I hate more than not having control over myself. Having to watch as my body is used without my consent."

Gadreel didn't even try to argue. He nodded in acceptance with his eyes fixed at the ground, "Sam, I am sorry. I do not blame you for hating me for the mistakes I have made. Your anger is justified. You have every right to be angry with me. I will work towards earning your forgiveness."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, "Well, if it helps at all. I never felt in danger when I was with you, and you didn't try to harm me. You also brought back Charlie and Cas even though you were weak at the time. I know you truly wanted to help, but you messed up sometimes. We all have. Learning from the mistakes you've made is the only way to make them mean something. I don't forgive you just yet, but I think I could. For both our sakes, I want to try and be friends."

Gabriel smiled softly, "I would like to try and be friends very much."

This felt different. This seemed to be the first time be had ever had an argument end on his terms, and not Dean's. When he was his younger is always ended with Dad and him trying to out yell each other, and ended once Dad had enough of it. Later on after John had died, arguments always ended with Dean having the last word, Dean knowing what was best, and Dean telling him how it was and what to do. A small part of Sam was still annoyed when that happened, but another part wanted that back. Dean doing what he thought was best because he cared so much, and Dean knowing where to go and what to do. Sam was the little brother, and Dean was the big brother, and his back up plan when things went bad was to call for Dean. He wanted that to a degree, but he couldn't have it. Later on maybe, he could have his brother back at his side, but for now he had to do it all on his own.

Sam watched as Gadreel fiddled with the television set becoming entranced when a home and gardens show came on.

He wouldn't have to do it _all_ on his own.

The empty space on the bed next to him wouldn't have Dean sprawled out on it in the morning. Getting breakfast would be a cinch without Dean whining for something greasy and fattening, and Gadreel didn't have to eat. There wouldn't anyone to make stupid jokes, and fill the room with his very presence like Dean did. Sam pictured Dean laughing, but then it was quickly replaced with an image of Demon Dean's hard eyes, and mocking smirk. It made Sam sick to his stomach. Gadreel said nothing as Sam rolled over on the bed and buried his face into his pillow. His eyes were wet and there was a hollow ache in his chest.

Gadreel's weight made the end of the bed dip slightly. He was quiet for a moment, and Sam tried to get a control over his rapid breathing.

His voice was serene and steady as he spoke to Sam, "That Dean shall never be. Your brother will be saved. You shall see him again one day, and be brothers as you once were."

Sam couldn't bring himself to reply as he closed his eyes.

Dean would be saved.

His brother would be saved.


	3. Chapter 3

_'Did you hear about some hunter out in Jericho that took out a woman in white by driving a car through a house?'_

_'I remember hearing about some young hunter taking on a wendigo by himself with a hand made flamethrower.'_

_'I heard Elkins got his house broken into, and they said it was that one hunter who killed a whole family of ghouls by himself. It's the same one who exorcised those demons out in Durham.'_

_'That's the mop haired kid with another guy; tall guys. I heard both of them are crazy. Always take on crazy hunts like that one case in an asylum.'_

_'You know the demon activity's been pretty low, even for the usual low standard, and it mostly starts when those two crazy hunters show up. You know John Winchester, the pissy hunter with the two boys who was hunting a demon with yellow eyes? I heard there hasn't been any lead at all for that demon, and John Winchester certainly hasn't taken it out. Isn't his youngest boy, Sam Winchester, missing?'_

_'Killing demons isn't child's play, but I heard those two nuts hunters make it seem like it is. Sometimes hunters will find dead demon's with stab wounds. Everyone knows you can't kill a demon; only send it back to hell. Do you think those guys actually have a knife that can do that?'_

_'I remember hearing that someone saw that crazy young hunter actually wrestle a hell hound in El Paso, and kill the damned thing before it could get the stupid person who'd got into a crossroads deal. They were stupid, but still innocent. Killed a damn hell hound, I tell ya.'_

_'The kid's partner is not half bad either. I hear he went in and took out a vampire nest by himself, and didn't come out with a scratch on him. It's the god honest truth.'_

_'You know that one scrappy hunter who claims he killed the tooth fairy? He says he met those two, but won't say much more about it.'_

_'I heard his name is Sal Paradise.'_

_'That's probably a fake name.'_

_'A friend told me he'd heard the young hunter goes by Seth Wesson and his buddy just goes by Zeke.'_

_'I asked Bobby Singer if he knew who these maniacs were, but he didn't have a clue.'_

_'I heard that they usually are around Lebanon, Kansas when they're out not killing every god damned monster out there.'_

_'There's been a lot of buzz going down at the Roadhouse about finding the youngest Winchester boy. Everyone is supposed to keep their eyes peeled. He apparently ran from Stanford after leavin' the life. Some people think he was taken or kidnapped, and some think he just up and left. Their old man thinks something was after him, but everyone knows how John Winchester is. How long as it been since the kid's been gone? He might be dead by now.'_

_'You know what I heard. I heard that crazy young hunter was Sam Winchester himself.'_

* * *

><p>Four Years.<p>

Four years since John and Dean had gone to Stanford, and found Sam wasn't there.

They continued to hunt, people still needed to be saved, and they kept an eye out for any activity concerning old Yellow Eyes. Things had been pretty quiet for a while, so they were as close to finding Mary's killer as they had been when they started. John, oddly enough, couldn't bring himself to just throw himself into the hunt for the demon. He needed to find his baby boy.

No one had seen hide nor hair of Sam for a while, not until they'd gotten the message on both John and Dean's phones. The one time they hadn't been able to pick up their phones, Sammy had called. He left a message saying he loved them, to remember to take care of themselves, that he was fine, and he hoped he'd be able to see them soon. When Dean got the message he slammed his fist into the motel wall. That message had sounded even more final than the last, and instead of 'see you soon' it was 'hope I'll be able to see you soon.' Sammy had called, and all he got was voice mail.

The Roadhouse got one call; Ellen, Jo, and Ash specifically. Just a normal conversational call, and it was cut before Ash could track it. This was how John had struck up a very tentative alliance with them; it helped Dean became friends with all three nearly on the spot.

As much as he didn't like working with other hunters, Sam had called them, and that had to mean something. John hadn't gone to the Roadhouse in years, but for some reason Sam had called there. Ellen had claimed she didn't know Sam from Adam except from his stories of him and baby pictures. John knew too well Ellen probably hated his guts, and for good reason too. She said she'd forgiven him and didn't blame him, but John himself sure did. Every time he saw Jo, who had grown into a young woman, he remembered how he'd taken that pig tailed little girl's father from her.

John didn't know how he could mend that broken bridge, and he figured he probably wouldn't ever be able to, but Ellen was civil and nice to him for some odd reason, so John tried to be on his best behavior. He'd nitpick with Bobby all he wanted, but not Ellen. Even after everything that happened, she agreed to spread the word to other hunters, it helped that she had taken in Ash after he'd gotten kicked out of MIT. Surely a genius, even one that didn't look like one, could find Sam. Ash said if Sam had left on his own he was being careful to not leave a trail, but he'd probably slip up eventually.

Four years, and they were coming up with squat.

John wasn't one to pay much attention to rumors. Bobby tended to gossip like an old hen, but not John Winchester. Rumors started going around about two crazy hunters who took on nearly impossible cases, and would come out unscathed. That they could kill demons, and demons ran from them. John thought it was a load of crap; just hunters telling tales. Dean and Jo ate the stories up; two badass hunters, Seth Wesson and Zeke, that made monsters quake in their boots was a nice story, but it was just that: a story.

It was while at the Roadhouse John heard the newest rumor.

Bobby sipped his beer, "Johnny, if Sam doesn't want to be found. I don't think we're going to find him. I really doubt he's been kidnapped, and if he is in danger I think he's going to go about this on his own."

John glanced at Dean who was leaning over the bar to watch what Ash was doing on his computer. Dean might drink like a fish and he barely slept with Sam gone, but in his message to Dean, Sam told him he was a genius, so he should stop pretending he was just a grunt. He told him he knew he sometimes snuck science journals into porn magazines, and that if he wanted to have a conversation with Ash about electrical engineering he could. John had no idea what that was about until he started to notice little by little a change in Dean.

He'd see him openly reading books, real for real books, not porn. Dean showed Ash an EMF meter he'd built himself and John couldn't even recall if he'd ever seen it, and as glum as he was about his brother being gone that one praise seemed to bring that part of Dean out of a hiding place.

John said, "He shouldn't have to. You know as well as I do that if Sam's in danger Dean will do whatever it takes to help him. I'm not givin' up."

Ellen wiped down the empty table next to John and Bobby's, "We can hope if that boy calls again Ash will be able to track his location. What the hell does he think he's doing that could be so dangerous he can't have anyone helping him? Sam is definitely your son, John."

John grumbled, "You know, I've had nearly nine different people tell me that, and it's really getting old."

Bobby chuckled, "We're not meaning any harm. It's just the truth."

Jo peered out the window to see what car was pulling up. The closed sign was out, so it couldn't be a customer. It had to be a hunter, "Hey, Uncle Caleb's here!"

Dean asked, "Wasn't he checking out a ghost in Wyoming with Jefferson?"

As soon as his truck came to a stop Caleb quickly got out of his truck and rushed to the Roadhouse.

He whipped the door open and tried to catch his breath as he spoke, "Have you guys heard of Seth Wesson?"

John scoffed, "Is that what was so important? You heard another crazy rumor?"

Caleb took a quick swig of John's beer before slamming it back down on the table, "You're going to want to hear this one. There's been some talk about Sam."

"What about Sammy? What's this have to do with Seth Wesson?" Dean demanded.

"A lot of hunters have been talking about Sam, after Ellen practically put out an APB for him. Well, there's been some talk that Seth Wesson is Sam Winchester. It also works for the name S.W, and the last names a gun too. And those who said they saw a glimpse say that the guy's young, tall, with longish hair. Nobody actually started hearing about the guy till a couple years ago, which fits in the time frame Sam went missing."

Dean scoffed, "No way. First of all Seth Wesson is a badass. Secondly, Sammy hates hunting."

"Do you think Sam's been selling Girl Scout cookies this whole time?" Bobby rolled his eyes, "I think Sam's been hunting something that he thinks could hurt you or Johnny."

"Which I think is stupid." John interrupted

Bobby continued, "As much as I hate to admit it, what Caleb's saying does make some sense. If it's nothing then fine, but it's the only lead we got."

Jo asked, "So, would that mean Sam really wrestled a frickin' hell hound?"

Dean shook his head, "No way in hell would that happen. Not Sammy, no. Then let's just assume Sammy is Seth Wesson. If that's true than who the hell is this Zeke guy?"

Caleb shrugged, "Hell if I know, but Jefferson said this one woman told him that one scrawny hunter knows them. I can't remember his name; starts with a G."

"Garth." Bobby sighed.

Ellen asked, "Wasn't that the one kid you told me about who used to be a dentist?"

Bobby nodded, "Yeah, Garth's a character, and for some odd reason he just doesn't die. Luckiest son of a bitch I ever met. The hunt I went on with him he got thrown across the room. He hit the ground hard, so I worried he was dead, but after I got the monster taken care of he popped right back up and said he was okay. I don't know how he's managed to stay alive, but he's resistant I'll give him that. I can try calling him to get his ass here."

Jo laughed, "Bobby, if he says he killed the tooth fairy you think he'd be telling the truth about knowing Seth Wesson?"

Bobby opened his phone, "The boy's an idjit, but he ain't a liar."

Garth's cheerful voice rang through the phone, "Hello, Garth here!"

"Garth, no time for pleasantries. Do you know Seth Wesson, or don't you?"

"I do," Garth replied, "He was a nice guy, and a great hunter, and-"

Bobby interrupted, "We know that Seth Wesson is really Sam. Did you know that?"

Dean snatched the phone before John could, "Garth, you tell me where the hell my brother is or I swear I will find you and god when I find you-"

Bobby ripped the phone from Dean's hands and put it on speaker.

Garth shouted, "Okay, okay! I know he's really Sam Winchester! He told me not to tell, I'm just supposed to keep my ears open and eyes peeled. He told me to keep an eye out for you guys actually. He wanted to be sure you were safe, and he wanted another hunter keeping watch and in contact with you guys. He contacts me every now and again, but usually only for a check up or occasional supplies."

Bobby asked, "Did he tell you anything about what he was doing or planning? What about this Zeke character we've been hearin' about?"

"Oh, Zeke? Chiseled Jaw, and leather jacket? He's a good guy, if not a little too serious. I don't know much about him aside from that those two hunt together."

Jo raised a brow, "Looks like you got replaced Dean for a different guy with a leather jacket."

Dean snapped, "Shut up!"

"That's enough you too." John scolded.

Bobby sighed, "Garth, please tell us if you know where Sam and this Zeke guy are?"

"Hell."

"What!"

"They're headed to Hell, Michigan. It's a small town up north. Sam thought there was case, but I don't know what they're hunting. They left from Warsaw, Missouri only a few hours ago."

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose, "You could've just said that. We're going to go find him, and we won't tell that you told us. It's important we find him. Thanks for your help."

Garth chuckled, "Anytime, Bobby. Just remember to wear a thick jacket. Hell froze over. Get it?"

Dean closed the phone while Garth continued to laugh at his own joke, "I don't like the sound of this Zeke guy. He could be manipulating Sammy, or he could've kidnapped him, or-"

Ellen said, "By what Garth said Sam didn't sound like he was kidnapped."

"_Jealous!"_ Jo said in a sing song voice.

"I'm not! We need to find my brother!"

John put his hand on Dean's shoulder, "Calm down, we'll find him. We'll pack up and head out."

Ash ran out of the hallway from his room shuffling through some papers, "I checked to see if there's anything going down in Michigan, and I haven't found anything conclusive, so it could just be they're meeting up with a contact there."

Caleb said, "Jefferson wanted me to come with him to gank a chupacabra down south, so I better head out. Call me if you find Sam. "

John nodded, "Will do. Dean, Bobby, and I will head out then too."

Jo asked, "Can I come?"

Dean said, "You have those classes to go to, Jo. You'll finally get a chance to meet Sammy when we bring him back here. Don't give Ellen too much trouble."

Ellen whacked Dean with her dishcloth, "You better watch yourself. I know how much you want to see your brother, but if he managed to evade you this long he could find a way to slip through. He may not want to come back here. He dropped everything for a reason."

Dean clenched his jaw, "We won't lose him this time, and I don't care what he thinks he's doing, I sure as hell won't let him do something stupid alone. This Zeke guy be damned; it's my job too look out for Sammy."

John glared at Jo before she could let a jealous comment slip.

They would find out who this 'Zeke' was once they found Sam.

* * *

><p>Gadreel watched over Sam just as Castiel asked him to.<p>

He watched over him during every hunt. He grew used to not using his powers. He only had his angel blade at his disposal, and he even learned how to operate guns. He even learned the proper way to behead a vampire. Sam was a patient teacher, and he even helped with his learning in understanding humanity and certain customs.

Humans liked nature, but most didn't lie in the middle of a park for hours soaking up the sunlight. Gadreel had missed the trees, sky, and flowers during his imprisonment. Sam had dragged Gadreel out of the park as a police officer came thinking he was a passed out drunk.

Humans were very social, and yet they seemed very selective about who they associated themselves with. Gadreel had tried conversing with them, and yet it did not always go according to plan. On occasion he would be ignored, or insulted, and he preferred the interactions where the people were kind.

Sam told him not every human was good, but they also weren't all bad. They were all simply trying their best.

One of the kind people they had encountered while hunting was Garth Fitzgerald IV. Sam had introduced him to Garth and the first thing the small man had done was hug him. It had been confusing, but not unpleasant. The warm feeling the strange gesture caused was very pleasing. Garth was an optimistic man who radiated warmth to those around him. He also had a very interesting sock puppet as a hunting partner. It went by the name Mr. Fizzles.

Gadreel learned not everyone enjoyed being hugged as a greeting after a woman screamed at him and beat him with her purse.

There was much to learn, and yet Sam was always patient and understanding.

Hunting was much easier. Gadreel might have been a sentry over a warrior, but as an angel he could fight evil even without smiting. He and Sam operated well, and saved many lives. Gadreel knew Sam as an excellent warrior, but seeing the man fighting under his own power amazed Gadreel. Sam could be gentle and kind, but in other instances he was merciless toward monsters.

They killed the demon Azazel.

They killed the demon Meg.

The only player left that was not of heaven was the demon Lilith. Once she was out of the way none of hell would be able to bring about the end of times if Lucifer never walked the Earth.

Heaven was a different story, but for the time Hell was the main priority.

Sam drove to Hell.

Not in the sense as in the Cage, which Sam wouldn't ever want to drive to, and it was impossible, but a town in Michigan which for some odd reason was named Hell.

They were to meet with a woman who went by the name of Bela Talbot.

"Sam, this 'Bela' is a career thief who steals Supernatural items. What exact purpose would contacting her serve?"

"She would be a good informant to have. She gets knowledge we don't in the circles she runs in. Bela may be ruthless, stuck-up, and cannot be loyal to anyone else but herself, but she's also skilled and has resources. We need as many allies as we can get, and Bela also manages to raise hell when she's our enemy. She thinks hunters are sociopathic killers who only want vengeance, but she'll help once she knows we can help her."

Gadreel tilted his head, "Had Bela been your enemy before?"

Sam shrugged, "Well, everything she does concerns herself. She's fucked us over before, but mostly if it meant helping herself. She doesn't like asking for help, or being indebted. She'll help us once she knows we can help her get out of her demon deal."

Gadreel considered asking Sam what reason Bela Talbot had made a deal, but he figured Bela would know the full reasoning to a better extent.

For an angel, time didn't mean all that much. Gadreel was one of the older angels, and his time imprisoned had skewed his sense of time perception a bit. To an angel, four years on Earth was quite a short amount of time, but Gadreel thought it was quite a bit of time for Sam to be away from his family. They had gained ground, that was true, but surely knowledgeable, trustworthy hunters such as Bobby Singer, the Harvelles, and the Winchesters would be of use. Sam only wanted to keep them safe, but Gadreel knew how much he wanted to see them, and missed them.

Gadreel would try to comfort him whenever Sam would wake in a panic shouting for Dean.

Gadreel saw how Sam's gaze would linger on the phone itching to call.

Sam had endured much pain and suffering, and was given a second chance others would give anything for. It was large weight on his shoulders, and many lives at stake. Sam had not broken down completely yet. A few damp pillows, muffled cries, and bad days did not suffice for having dealt with pain that would annihilate a weaker man. A part of Gadreel thought that Sam needed the comfort only his elder brother could offer him, yet another part of him thought seeing his loved ones would be what broke him. Gadreel did the best he could to ease Sam's pain, so he did not ask of why they did not simply go to Dean and the other trusted hunters. He offered an unbiased ear, a patient temper, and a comforting hand; as his friend, it was a the least he could do.

Bela had agreed to meet with them on the condition she chose where to meet and when: Comet Cafe in Hell, Michigan. At Tuesday.

It had been a rather frigid Tuesday since Sam had stolen Gadreel's leather jacket, and continuously complained about the cold. Due to Bela's specifications they couldn't even go inside the cafe with the heater since Bela had demanded it be outside. Gadreel understood the strategy Bela was attempting to put out. She wanted the advantage, and open air in a public place was a solid move. Sam didn't think much of many monsters, but he seemed generally nervous about meeting with Bela.

Gadreel was sure this woman was formidable. Sam didn't even bother touching his odd wheat spinach pastry. Gadreel would've chosen the devil's food doughnut, because even if Lucifer found it appetizing it certainly did look so.

Gadreel thoroughly enjoyed the strawberry smoothie, but Sam had claimed it was too frickin' cold. Sam drank a drink he called an espresso, but Gadreel wasn't found of the taste. The smoothie was much better. He wondered if Bela would also enjoy a smoothie, but Sam had only frowned and furrowed his brow when Gadreel had asked.

Sam whispered, "There she is. The well dressed woman with the green eyes; that's Bela."

Gadreel tried to look at the woman discretely. She was indeed well dressed in a slim black dress with light brown hair that reached her shoulders. Gadreel wondered if he was under dressed in jeans and a button shirt adorning flowers that Sam had given him to wear. She looked like a very beautiful woman and she smiled very sweetly, but Gadreel wouldn't let down his guard.

She asked, "_Seth Wesson_, and Zeke I presume?"

Sam flinched when she put an infliction on his name, "Bela, I'm going to assume you already know who I really am."

Bela sat down daintily in the chair across from Sam and Gadreel, "Yes, Sam I know. There's been a lot of talk going around about you. Got Papa and big brother pretty worried. And then Seth Wesson certainly has his name out there too. Now tell me, why exactly should I even consider not walking right out of this cafe after I get my latte?"

"You help us out and in return we can help you."

"Oh, a hunter help me? Now Seth Wesson could prove useful that's true, but I sincerely doubt there's anything you could give me or offer me that could make me want to stick my neck out for you."

Sam shook his head, "I don't want you to stick your neck out for us. All I ask for is information; any information you think could be of use you come across. I only want you to keep an eye out. Big things are coming. I know you don't like hunters, but that's all I ask."

Gadreel had been silent throughout the entire exchange. It was fairly easy to see when a person was under a demon contract, but seeing the exact details of the contract were a bit more difficult. He had wanted to see what he could find on Bela's soul.

He pursed his lips, "Bela Talbot, your real name is Abbie. You were born to a wealthy family in the United Kingdom. You made the demon deal when you were but a teenager to kill your parents. They abused you, and the demon caused a car accident that killed them."

Bela stood up abruptly, both Bela and Sam looked at Gadreel stunned, "Shut up. Shut the hell up. I don't know how you came across that information, but-"

Gadreel cut her off, "Miss. Talbot, please. We mean no harm. As Sam had asked before, all we want is your assistance as an informant. You help us, and we can break you from your demon deal, and your true identity and past is a secret with us."

Bela laughed sarcastically, "You can't save me. I don't need you too."

Sam said, "Bela, we can and we will. You scratch our back, and we'll scratch yours. Your just one insignificant soul. If you can't be taken the first time hell won't give a damn about it so long as you don't get involved with them. You have my word. We'll save you and won't tell anyone about you."

Bela usually radiated self confidence, but now she looked shell shocked and small, "You can really do that, and I only need to pass along information if I get any? You don't want anything else?"

Gadreel tilted up her chin so she could look at his eyes. They held nothing but honesty and determination, "We desire nothing else. We are not demons who took advantage of you; your parents or the one who made a deal with you. What we have stated is all we ask."

Bela smacked his hand away, but it had little malice behind it, "If you can do it. I'll help. Why me though?"

Sam replied, "You're hell as an enemy and intelligent; that's as good an ally as any. We only want to save as many as we can. You made a bad decision, but that does not mean you're a bad person. Alright?"

Bela slowly slipped a card to Gadreel as she tried to process what Sam had said, "We'll be in touch."

Bela's gaze met Sam's; hard yet again, but slightly glistening. Sam raised a brow when her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in surprise, "Well, Sam, Zeke, If we are to be business contacts I think you should know John Winchester, Dean Winchester, and Bobby Singer are only twenty paces behind you."

She turned swishing her hair and quickly walked with her heels tapping the concrete.

Sam hissed, "Is she telling the truth?"

Gadreel looked down and sighed, "Sam, I am sorry."

Sam looked over his shoulder to see his father, brother, and Bobby standing next to the car Gadreel and Sam were driving. Dean shouted, "Sammy!"

His father was alive, and well.

Bobby was alive, and well.

His brother was alive and well.

Sam's mind went blank, "Fuck."

* * *

><p>Thank all you guys for reading, and everything. Your reviews are always great, and I can't answer some questions because I want it to be a surprise, but yes Cas will show up again eventually.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean didn't think there was a God, but he thanked every deity he could think of when he saw his little brother sitting in the cafe. Bobby had made him get in a god damned plane saying they would be able to get the jump on Sam if they did. On any other circumstance Dean wouldn't have ever got onto one of those flying death traps, but after four years of searching he was getting desperate. His dad had snuck him whiskey, and didn't complain when he hummed Metallica to calm himself down. John preferred driving too, even if he wasn't terrified of planes, but he would take a plane if it meant getting to see Sam healthy and safe. They hadn't been as close to finding him as they were now. Dean's heart swelled when he saw Sam after the hot woman in heels stood up.

Sam's face looked a little less boyish, especially with his hair parted. The end of his hair was longer and curled up slightly around his ears. He was still Sammy with his mole near his nose and a plaid shirt under his jacket. The man sitting next to him was as tall as Sam so Dean assumed he was Zeke. Garth hadn't been kidding about the dude's chiseled jaw; you could slice cheese on that thing. The woman walked away and Sam swished around. His eyes went wide when he saw them, and he stood there frozen.

Dean yelled, "Sammy!"

Sam mouthed something that looked like it started with an f. The man Dean presumed to be Zeke glanced at Sam. The mortified look in Sam's eyes told Dean right away Sam wasn't going in easily. He didn't want to believe it, he wanted this whole thing behind them, and their family back together, so he tried to put his doubt to rest. Dean was about to walk toward his brother when Sam took off sprinting in the other direction, and Zeke followed closely behind him.

John swore, "Son of a bitch! He's making a run for it."

Bobby said, "You two try to catch him. I'll bring the trunk around to see if I can cut him off somewhere."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He didn't even check to see if his father was right behind him. He ran after Sam pushing anyone who got in his way. Sam and his buddy had freakishly long legs, but Dean didn't stop running. It was a hell of a lot easier to chase after Sam when he was three feet tall and running from bath time, but now the little shit was running like hell was on his tail. Sam didn't even glance back or try to shove anything in their path; he just ran.

John regretted telling Sam during training to run as if he were being chased. The kid was too damn good at it. They wouldn't be able to keep up the cat and mouse game forever. One of them was bound to get tired, and John was betting it would probably be him. Dean and Sam were younger, and Dean wouldn't be able to keep up with Sam for too long. Sam's legs were longer and he was just only a little bit healthy than Dean. All those times Dean had teased his brother about eating salads was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Sam nearly stumbled when he turned a sharp corner into an alleyway giving Dean a little more leeway. Zeke had gotten a little farther ahead, but Dean was almost in arm's reach of his brother. He just needed to gain a little more ground; just a bit more.

John yelled, "Damn it, Sam. Stop!"

Dean didn't say anything. Yelling would waste oxygen. His blood pounded in his ears as the cold Michigan air burned his lungs. It reminded him of a werewolf hunt he had gone on in Wisconsin; instead of freezing his balls off running after wolfy he was chasing his stupid long legged little brother.

Zeke said, "Sam, you cannot keep running away. I know you think you are not ready to face them, but perhaps this is exactly what you need to do."

The fucker had the nerve to not even sound tired; probably wasn't even breaking a sweat either.

Sam huffed with every word he spoke, "Not yet. Not yet. Can't do it yet. Not enough time. Too close. We're too close."

Dean reached his arm out and tried to latch his fingers around Sam's jacket. If the Zeke guy was encouraging him to run tackling Sam would've been out of the question. John was lagging behind, but even if he caught up and Zeke helped fight them off it would give Sam enough time to get away. It didn't sound like Zeke wanted Sam to run, but Dean couldn't make heads or tails of Sam's ramblings. What could Sam not do yet? See them? What did he mean there wasn't enough time? Too close to what?

They had reached the end of the alley when a blue ford pickup blocked the end. John hadn't been happier to see Bobby. Zeke skidded to a halt, but Sam wasn't going to stop. Dean did what any other brother would do in a situation where their brother wouldn't stop running their skinny ass away. Dean had done it when Sam was fourteen and stole his Black Sabbath cassette because he accidentally sat on his science project, so now he did it again.

Dean jumped on Sam's back and put all his weight on him until he hit the ground.

It wasn't graceful, and Sam would probably end up with a number of bruises, but it worked.

Sam continued to struggle, but Dean had the advantage. Zeke stood off to the side as Sam wore himself out trying to shake Dean loose, but Dean wasn't letting up. Sam banged his fist against the concrete like a petulant child, "Get your fatass off me!"

Dean spoke slowly as he tried to catch his breath. He was sure he had left his left lung back near the convenience store, "Four fucking years. I was pissed, scared out of my mind, I haven't slept, and then you make me chase you like you're running from the cops. Four fucking years, and the first thing you say to me is 'Get your fatass of me.'? Really, Sammy?"

Bobby got out of the truck as John jogged up to them breathing heavily. Sam rested his forehead against the pavement in defeat, "Dean, I'm sorry. I called to let you know I was okay."

Dean grumbled, "What _the fuck? _A call every now and then well that just makes it all dandy, doesn't it? Four fucking years, Sammy. You just ran from Stanford that phone call sounded so fucking final we thought you were going to do something so fucking stupid. You scared the hell out of me and Dad."

John rubbed the back of his neck, "Dean, we should get moving. If anyone comes around here they're going to think we're mugging him."

Sam chuckled at the prospect so Dean stuck his fingers into his mouth, and then shoved it into Sam's ear, "Damn it, Dean! That's frickin' gross!"

"You're lucky I'm not really mugging you! You're lucky I don't beat your ass from here to Botswana for scaring me like that. When we get to the motel you have a lot of explaining to do, Mr."

John crossed his arms, "What Dean said."

Bobby glanced at the tall man who said nothing as Dean practically read Sam the riot act. The man said, "Hello, Bobby Singer, I am Zeke."

Bobby poked the kid in the chest regretting it when he realized how solid the guy was. Bobby was tough, but the young guy could kick his ass if he wanted to, "You're going to be answering some questions too, _Zeke."_

Zeke nodded, "Of course, I mean no harm and will cooperate with you."

Dean clambered to stand while keeping a firm hand to Sam's sleeve, "Christ, who the hell is this guy?"

Sam wiped the dirt off his jeans, "That's Zeke. He's a friend."

"Well that isn't vague as fuck."

Dean was surprised when Sam pulled him in for a hug, "I missed you, Dean."

Dean patted Sam's back, "Missed you too, Sammy. Sure would've helped to have my trusty sidekick geek-boy. Just don't scare me like that again, Okay?"

Sam wasn't about to release Dean until John cleared his throat. Sam reluctantly let Dean go before moving onto John and Bobby, "Hey, Dad. Hey, Bobby."

John held his youngest boy tight, "Hey, Sam. You are going to give us a damn good explanation for everything that's gone on the last four years. Why you left Stanford, why the fuck you're with this clown, and what this Seth Wesson business is."

John expected Sam to argue. He expected him to try and defend himself. Sam was generally a roaring ball of anger. If Sam thought he was doing right that would be the only right way, and he'd argue his way through it. He hadn't expected the gentle whimsical tone he received, "Yes, sir."

Sam pulled away slightly, but kept John and Bobby close enough to get a good look at them, "It's good to see you, Dad. Were you always this scruffy? You look good, Bobby."

Zeke said, "Sam, are you alright?"

Sam sighed, "Yeah, uh we should get going. The car's back at the cafe, so we should go get it."

Dean grabbed Sam's arm, "Oh no you don't. You are going to get in that frickin' rental truck and you are going to sit in the back seat with me. Your buddy can get your car cause I don't a shit about him."

John noted how Sam's shoulders seem to droop a little, "Uh, I guess Zeke can get the car. Where's the Impala?"

"We took a plane here." Bobby replied.

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief, "You actually managed to get Dean on a plane? Was there pie and the guy who plays Dr. Sexy on it? Dean hates planes. He's terrified of them!"

John raised a brow, "Dr. Sexy?"

Dean stomped his foot, "Shut your whore mouth!"

Zeke said, "Dean is actually glad that you noticed enough about him to realize that about him and he in the fact he drives everywhere due to his fear. He does not think you have a 'whore mouth' Sam, although I do not know what is the requirement to have one."

Dean glared, "You can go now. Sammy, seriously where the hell did you find this guy."

"Sam did not find me. I have never been lost."

"I'm going to put your ass in the lost n' found if you don't get the hell out of here. We're staying at the motel that leads off onto the highway. Try to get lost on your way there."

Zeke tilted his head, "You are very confusing."

Dean tugged Sam along towards the truck, "Same to you, buddy."

Sam was content letting Dean drag him around by his sleeve. He would've rather climbed into the front seat of the Impala; the smell of leather and hint of gunpowder with Dean blasting his mullet rock. He wanted to see Dean happily driving the Impala singing along to the music off key. Before Dean had left the Impala, not seeming to care for her or Sam anymore. Sam tried to push away those thoughts. That wasn't his life anymore. Gadreel was getting the car. Gadreel couldn't be his anchor to bring him back; he'd have to do it himself.

Bobby and John got into the front seat while Dean and Sam got into the cab. With Sam's long legs it was a little cramped, but his brother was sitting right next to him. Dean didn't question why Sam didn't let go of his sleeve when they got into the truck or why his grip seemed to get even tighter once Zeke was out of sight. Dean stated, "That dude's a weirdo. He's seriously the Zeke who took out a whole nest of vampires by himself?"

Sam smiled softly, "The idiot knew there was one and just went off. I had asked him to pick up some ice pops and I assumed he went to get some. I had bronchitis and you can't exactly be sneaky when you're coughing up a storm. I remember it was rainy and he came back to the motel soaked, covered in blood, and carrying a box of Popsicles."

Bobby's eyes widened as he glanced at them in the rear view mirror, "You mean that every story about Zeke and Seth Wesson is the god honest truth?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know about _every_ story."

Dean shook his head, "Here I thought you hated hunting and then you run off with some dude to do just that. Not only that, but you go and be a frickin' badass at it."

Sam's smile faded, "There's no getting out. I learned that and I accept it. I did hate hunting, I did hate the life, I was angry. It really could've been worse growing up in the life, but this is _my_ life so I just have to take it. I can't be normal. I thought I was somehow better than you, but now I see I was wrong. I've learned from my mistakes, and I'll correct them. I'm really sorry for how I made you guys worry, but It was for the best."

John couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sam sounded so...grown-up. There was a certain weariness in his voice, but certainty to it. It was unlike the boy that had walked out the motel door to go to Stanford. He didn't know what to respond to it, but he was sure Dean would come up with something.

Dean ran the hand, Sam didn't have the sleeve of, through his hair, "I'd sure like to know how you thought running all over the frickin' U.S giving me a bunches of gray hairs was for the best. Also, what did you mean, when you were running away, when you said 'not yet' about something. Couldn't do what yet? You said that you and Zeke were too close and that there wasn't enough time? What the hell did that mean?"

Sam shifted in his seat, "It's difficult to explain. There's a lot and some of it I don't even know how to tell you, and it's just-"

Bobby interrupted, "You can tell us whatever it is at the motel. We don't need you getting antsy and thinking you should just head for the hills again."

Sam rested his head against the cool window glass, "Okay."

John said, "Once we can get this whole thing straightened out we can get to hunting. Maybe we can find something about the Yellow Eyed Demon."

Dean didn't see how Sam winced at the name, "First we got to get Baby, and Ellen will kick your's, mine, and Bobby's asses if we don't bring Sammy over to the Roadhouse, and Jo's been dying to meet you. Oh man, Sammy, Ash built his own frickin' computer it's so cool. I don't know how the hell you knew about them, but I'm glad you did. They're all pretty cool 'cept Ellen gets onto me sometimes."

Sam asked, "What's so cool about the computer? Tell me about it; I'm listening."

Dean didn't hold back as he went into exquisite detail about Ash's computer using a bunch of technical mumbo jumbo John couldn't make heads or tails of. Sam had his full attention on Dean as he talked, and he hadn't let go of Dean's sleeve just like they were little boys again. Sam would ask a question here and there letting Dean go more into it; not bothering to cap his excitement in the least. He had his baby brother back at his side, and that's all that mattered to him. John saw how Sam's eyes looked a little more like a tired seasoned hunter, and how he seemed happy, yet at the same time sad every time he looked at Dean. He knew there were things Sam was hiding, that he probably wasn't going to tell them everything about Zeke, and he knew something had happened to Sam that made him the way he was. He just didn't know what.

John sighed as he relaxed in his seat. Running after the boy had worn him out a little; he figured more training would be in order since he needed to be on the top of his game for hunting. Spending too much time at the Roadhouse had made him get comfy with being sedentary. If they were ever going to get back in the groove of things they needed to get back on the road, back to hunting, the three of them again. Sam seemed like he'd be a huge asset now, and with the two of them around he could look after them. Even solo hunts would be better. Dean would have a willing and ready partner, and there was no one better for him to take on the road than Sam. Things would almost be like they used to be, even though they wouldn't.

Sam didn't seem like he had the fight in him to argue. Sam had a new hunting partner that he had somehow thought was better to have around than his own family. Sam thought he needed to protect them, when it was John's job to do so, not Sam's. Things wouldn't be how they used to be. Sam wasn't how he used to be. John figured Dean saw it too, but tried to ignore it. He was just happy to see Sammy again.

Bobby said, "Don't blow a gasket thinking too hard there, Winchester. Sam's here now, and he's safe and healthy. Take what you can get for now, and we'll figure the rest out as we go."

John glanced in the mirror to see Dean smiling bigger than he had for a long time, and Sam watching his animated brother talking with a small smile on his own lips. He looked a little more pale, and there was a little more darkness under his eyes from lack of sleep, but he was healthy. He was alive and not dead torn to pieces somewhere. He was safe with his brother in the backseat. They had a hell of a lot to figure out, but like Bobby said he'd take what he could get.

When they pulled into the motel parking lot they found a 6'3 man in a hoodie sitting right in front of their room door with two duffel bags next to him. He was just sitting cross-legged on the concrete in front of the door.

"How the hell did Zeke know which room was ours?"

Sam chuckled, "He's good at weird stuff like that."

"Knew he was a weirdo."

Sam still hadn't let go of Dean's sleeve, and since he didn't want to upset him Dean just let it be. His grip loosened a little when Gadreel scrambled to his feet before John kicked him out of the way of the door.

Gadreel said, "Sam, I have used the telephone to notify Garth and a few others we are now in contact with your family, so they can stop telling you to do so. I also did not accidentally call the nice lady who works at the Chinese food restaurant in San Bernando again."

Sam asked, "How are her kids doing again?"

"Her oldest girl had surgery, nothing major, and her son did extremely well on his last spelling test."

Sam reluctantly let go of Dean's sleeve so he could fix the salt lines. They probably would only stay one night then hit the road, but one could never be too careful. More sigils and protection was better than waking up to find his family dead in the morning just cause he was with them. Sam dug into the weapon's duffel for some spray paint, "Zeke, get to work on some sigils."

Bobby raised a brow, "Boy, the room's pretty secure. We got salt, protective charms, and everything. You don't need to worry."

Sam tossed his dad a couple hex bags, "Hide these somewhere. It's better to be safe than sorry."

Gadreel shook the can of paint before spraying in Enochian behind a picture of a landscape, "Sam, what of anti-possession. Are they secure?"

John turned one of the hex bags over in his hands, "Bobby gave us some anti-possession charms. What're in these things anyway? What do they do?"

"They do a number of things depending on which hex bag it is. These are not like the bad ones witches possess to harm others." Gadreel replied, "Some weaken witches dramatically. Some act as a shield against a number of creatures. Most hide our location. The one you are holding is composed of two bones of a chicken foot, an unbroken spider egg, equal quantities of hemp and lavender, and goofer dust."

Dean cringed, "That sounds gross. I do not want that under my pillow or bed. Did you guys actually kill the chicken to get it's foot or something."

Sam smiled at the scandalous look on Gadreel's face, "I would never harm a chicken for such a purpose. If it were demonic and harming Sam perhaps, and I am aware it is used for sustenance, but chickens have their place in the world as humans do."

"I kind of want a chicken sandwich now. What about you nature boy?"

"I do not require it. Why did you call me nature boy?"

"Nature boy and Geek boy. It's the perfect team. Two nerds who by day spend their days being weirdos whether at the library or the park, and by night hunt monsters."

Bobby asked, "Nature boy, you think my anti-possession charms ain't good enough?"

Sam tugged down his shirt to reveal his anti-possession tattoo, "A tattoo is a safer bet. A charm or jewelry could be lost or taken, but a demon probably won't go to the trouble of burning a tattoo off you; just a little extra protection."

Dean was practically giddy, "Shit, Dad, Sammy has a tattoo, and it's badass! I need one like now. Does it work better over the heart or something? It'll be kinda girly, but I'll get one in the same place."

John grumbled, "I guess it would be safer."

Bobby admired the accuracy of the pentagram, "Good thinking, Sam."

Sam shrugged, "It's nothing. Although, I think it would be a good idea to put some more sigils in the Roadhouse and then your house."

Gadreel opened his phone and frowned, "Sam, I was texted by Miss. Mosley that if we do not stop by her home she will 'whoop' you and I with her spoon. She also needs to see if Dean had really grown out of being a 'goofy looking kid' and I believe there was something about 'wacking' John Winchester, but it involved many expletives so I left them out of the statement. Perhaps we should stop in Kansas before continuing on to Nebraska and South Dakota."

John demanded, "You've talked to Missouri? Why? When?"

Sam regarded his father calmly, "Dad, It was more like she found me. The only reason she didn't notify you guys of where I was because I begged her not too."

Dean crossed his arms, "Why did you not want us to find you so bad?" He pointed at Gadreel, "Seriously, you get other people on your side and you hunt with this clown, but why not us? Are we not good enough for you or something?"

Sam shook his head, "I couldn't do it all on my own. I needed more bullets occasionally, or some cash, and Zeke saved my ass a couple times. I probably wouldn't be standing here if he hadn't jumped into the fray. Dean, it's not like I didn't want to hunt with you. I did; more than anything. I trust you to have my back, and you're a great hunter. You are good enough. I owe you-"

"You don't owe me anything," Dean interrupted, "It's my job to look after you."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, "I don't know where to turn if I can't turn to you. Running to Dean was and has always been my back up plan. Just this once, Dean, just this once I thought—Answer this for me: what's most important?"

Dean's response was automatic, "Look after Sammy."

Sam threw up his hands into the air, "See! Dean, this time I thought—I thought Dean was going to be the most important. I know you don't believe you're as important as me, but you are. You think your my savior, my brother the hero, who will swoop in and fix everything. I don't want you putting yourself on the line like that. Not because I don't think your capable, but because I can't lose you. I just can't."

Sam whispered so low it was inaudible to all those except Gadreel, "I can't lose you _again_. Dad is still alive, and I'll keep it that way. I'll do the same for you and Bobby too."

Dean was taken aback, like it was the craziest idea he had ever heard: Dean be just as important as Sammy; impossible! Dean stared at his brother like he'd grown three heads, "I'm not that important, Sammy! I look after you that's just how it goes. You don't need to do that for me. I can't lose you either, and then for four fucking years you let me believe I had! I don't get what you're trying to do here, Sammy."

"Protect you!"

"Well, I don't need it!"

Bobby demanded, "Dean, you don't seriously believe that? Of course your important. Pretty damn important to your brother if you're actually listening to him instead of having your head up your ass! I think you both made some damned stupid decisions, but you look out for each other. That's what family does."

John glanced at Zeke who was completely content to sit quietly as the boys argued over protecting each other. He could deal with Sam yelling at him questioning orders, hell, he could handle Dean's slightly passive arguments when Sam got put in the line of fire. He didn't have a clue how to deal with the boy's argument of current. It was getting deeply emotional, and that was one thing John didn't know how to deal with it. They were basically bickering over which brother loved the other more, and who was going to win the protective pissing contest.

John cleared his throat, "Boys, that's enough. We need to get some tickets to fly to Kansas

He knew bringing up a plane ride would get Dean's attention.

Dean's face paled, "We're taking a plane?"

"Yes, we're not driving a stolen car across the interstate."

Bobby shrugged on his jacket, "Well you three can stay here, so long as no one tears anyone's head off. I'll get the tickets."

Bobby was out the door with only a quick reminder to fix the salt line, while Dean stomped over to the small kitchenette to make himself some coffee.

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "I'm just going to lie down a bit. I have a headache."

John watched over the top of his journal to see his youngest son collapse over the comforter on the bed away from the door. He curled his long body up and turned onto his right side. It only took the amount of time it took Dean to make his coffee before his breathing steadied signaling he was asleep.

Zeke explained, "It had been a long day, so he is probably exhausted. He falls asleep easily some days because it's rare he's comfortable enough to get in the sleep. Usually his insomnia keeps him awake, or it is unsafe to sleep."

Dean and John both watched curiously as Zeke took the comforter, blankets, and pillows from the other bed. He then took the clothes duffel bag and Dean's clothes duffel bag and put them on the floor near the side Sam was sleeping. He arranged them together on the floor until he was content with it, and then crawled up on the bed. He laid like a plank on the side of the bed near the other bed. His eyes closed like a robot plugging in to charge. Dean pretended to be really interested in drinking his crappy coffee, while John pretended to work on going through his journal, even though he wasn't. Both of them let out a breathe when after fifteen minutes Zeke seemed to has also fallen asleep.

Dean said, "Sammy kicks! That dude's going to end up with some bruises for sure. What the hell is up with the nest building?"

John replied, "It looks like Zeke was trying to cushion the floor on Sam's side. They're both big guys, so one if not both of them is bound to fall off."

"Both giants is more like it. Oh, and cough it up."

John pretended he didn't know what Dean was talking about, "Cough what up?"

Dean stuck out his hand, "We had a deal. Cough it up."

John dug out his wallet, "Twenty fucking dollars. I was sure he was straight. Damn it!"

Dean snatched the twenty dollar bill from his dad, "It works out now that I'm twenty dollars richer."

"Which you'll be spending on ammo."

Dean tried not to sulk, "Yes, sir."

Dean sure didn't care for Sammy's new boyfriend/ hunting buddy, but he cared for Sam.

Sam was back safe with them, and that was all that mattered.

Unbeknownst to John and Dean, Gadreel had been aware of his surroundings while he recharged, but he was confused on why John was sure Sam was linear, and what Dean meant when he thought, very loudly, saying Gadreel was Sam's boyfriend. Of course, he was Sam's friend, and his vessel just so happened to be male. He thought hunting buddy would have sufficed rather than simply detailing him and his and Sam's friendship. Gadreel didn't think Dean would react well to Gadreel attempting to correct him, so he continued to rest.

Without having access to heaven, he put himself into a slumber-like state of lowered awareness to ensure he would be of most use to Sam. Not to mention Sam's nightmares could be troublesome at times. Sharing a bed seemed like the most logical thing, and they had grown used to it when money was low and they could only afford a room with one bed.

There was much to be done.

Gadreel had wanted Sam to have his family, but he was getting the feeling that having them around would make his mission a _bit_ more difficult.


	5. Chapter 5

The last time John had been in Lawrence was only shortly after Mary's death.

The last time Dean had been in Lawrence had been the same time.

The Winchesters generally avoided hunts centering around Kansas, and out right refused to go to Lawrence. There were too many memories there; too many bad memories. John had packed up his boys and high tailed it out of there once he learned the truth of what was out there. He'd learned a bit about the evil that took his wife from him before he left. Missouri Moseley, a physic, had told him the truth about the evil things that lurked in the shadows.

John hadn't bothered to check in with her. Sam would've been far too young to remember knowing her, and yet somehow during his travels he had ended up on her doorstep.

The first time Sam and Zeke had been in Lawrence was after the house had been rebuilt. He had helped put his mother to rest, and helped get rid of the spirit plaguing the family living there.

In another life, it had been Dean whom Sam had first gone to Lawrence with.

Living in Lebanon, Kansas, Sam could just drive to visit Missouri every now and again. Dean and John wouldn't have ever expected him to be there, and it was nice to see someone he had once known. Aside from needing contacts, It was why he had tracked down Garth, Bela, and a few others. He felt a built guilty chasing a fantasy of what had been, but it gave him some solace to just see their faces.

Dean, Bobby, and John were a bit different.

Every time Sam looked at Bobby, he saw the man in the wheelchair, the soldier wounded in war, the family member with a bullet in his skull, the ghost wanting Dick Roman's head on a plate, the soul trapped in Hell thanks to Crowley, and the empty space when he and Dean had been at a dead end in a case. So many times Dean had left his name unsaid saying, 'I wish we could just call-'

When Sam looked at his Father he saw him with yellow eyes. He saw the dead man lying in a hospital bed.

Demon Dean was a regular torment in his nightmares.

_'You can't save him. This is what he's going to become! You can't save him!'_

Looking at Dean gave Sam the most comfort, and the most grief. He loved seeing the brother who laughed at lame jokes, who loved him unconditionally, who seemed so carefree even with the troubles of the life. He didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders, dead friends blood on his hands, or the years of pain and suffering the Dean that lived through the apocalypse had. Sam still worried for him. Dean hadn't the years of many hard battles under his belt, he didn't have the hardness he once had after hell, and in that way Dean was somewhat innocent. Sam wanted to protect it.

He knew he couldn't always act as his brother's guard; Dean had been a good example of that, but he wanted to try and do what was right. Some days Sam wanted Dean to stand between him and the world he thought he was protecting him from, but those were usually just on the bad days. They would protect each other, but Sam was going to have to take the lead without Dean knowing. Dean had never been to hell, and he'd never faced angels. This time Sam would have to be the protector. He'd have to protect all of them. There was no time for his childish thoughts.

When the time was right he would tell them all what they needed to know.

He wouldn't tell them the gory details; just the facts.

There were just some things Sam couldn't ever speak of again. He wouldn't ever be able to bring himself to do it.

Sam's stomach twisted itself into knots on the drive to Missouri's. The plane ride had been uneventful aside from Dean's snoring after Bobby gave him something to knock him out. John wasn't a man of many words, and Sam saw the looks he kept giving him. He didn't know what to make of his youngest son, but confusion aside Sam was just happy to see a glimmer of affection in his eyes. Neither men asked Sam about what he had been up to in his four years. Sam figured they were planning on the right time to strike, or they were going to try and get something out of Missouri first. Gadreel was pleasant to them, but there was still ample amount of distrust. The angel was trying his hardest to appear normal and likeable, but Sam was sure his dad was still trying to figure out what was so great about him that Sam would have him help instead of them.

Dean wiggled in his seat, "Why the hell do I have to sit in the back? I get stuck with tweedle dee and tweedle dum's huge ass shoulders. I'm getting squished back here!"

Gadreel asked, "Which of us are you referring to as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum when using such nicknames?

"You're definitely Tweedle Dum."

"I apologize for the discomfort caused by my shoulders. There is nothing I can do, and for that I apologize."

Sam shifted closer to the door to give Dean more room, "You're the one who said we're not taking more than one car. We can always strap you to the roof."

Dean retorted, "We can always strap _you_ to the roof."

Sam rolled his eyes, "That was such a good comeback I don't even know how to reply to it. Zeke, do you know how to reply?"

Gadreel tilted his head, "You're being sarcastic are you not? Even I am aware that was not a very good comeback. He simply repeated what you had said before. I cannot think of how to reply, but I believe Ms. Mosley would not be pleased to find any one had been strapped to the roof. It is not too cramped where we cannot become comfortable. It could be worse if the car was smaller, or if there were more people in it."

Dean groaned, "I don't even know how you put up with this shmuck for four years. I'm done with him already."

Sam moved his long legs into Dean's leg room, "Don't be mean to Zeke. He's just pointing out the obvious."

Dean tried to move Sam's legs,"That's basically all he does!"

John said, "Boy's, that's enough. We're here."

Everyone piled out of the car. Missouri was already waiting for them on her porch; it was to be expected of a psychic. John and Bobby jabbed each other in the ribs trying to get the other to greet her first, but Gadreel beat her to it.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Mosley. It's a pleasure to see you again."

Missouri's voice was sweet when she spoke to Gadreel, "Always a pleasure to have you, Zeke. Been keeping Sam out of trouble?"

Gadreel smiled softly, "As always."

John whispered to Bobby, "Luckily, she seems like she's in a good mood."

"I heard that, John Winchester! You four get your asses over here right now." Missouri scolded.

Dean walked to the porch with Sam trailing close behind him. He wanted to know how the non threatening woman short woman could be a psychic. She certainly didn't look like the picture he had of psychic's in his head.

Dean clasped the top of his head right after it was whacked by a wooden spoon, "I heard that, boy. I am in fact a psychic, and you better be threatened. Hm, well you sure grew up handsome, like your brother, and let me tell you; you were one goofy looking kid."

Sam laughed at his brother only to have the spoon turned on him, "Ouch, why'd you hit me?"

Missouri pursed her lips, "If they hadn't of caught you when you were runnin' away you would have just kept on runnin'. Worried them sick. I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn't mean I liked it. Now get in here, it's cold outside."

With Missouri's words Dean's vigilance on Sam increased. The two walked into Missouri's home with reluctantly following. They had hoped all of Missouri's wrath would be used up on the younger boys, but both received a knock with her spoon when they passed, "You two can be downright stupid sometimes too. Don't think you're getting out of it."

Bobby grumbled, "Yeah, yeah I hear ya."

John shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled at the ground. That earned him another whack for hard hardheadedness.

"Okay, fine, I hear ya."

Sam reveled in the familiarity of the place. Before he hadn't been to Missouri's often, but now he did. He couldn't wait to see Bobby's House, and the Roadhouse. Both had been burned to crisp before, but now they still stood. He couldn't wait to see the Impala. It still felt like he was chasing a pipe dream, but Sam didn't mind. He'd enjoy it why he could. A part of him was sure none of it would last, but he was going to try and cling to it the best he could.

Gadreel placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. He said nothing. He couldn't find the words to offer solace, but generally a simple touch would snap Sam back.

Dean frowned. Sam stared off into space; his face blank, and his stare almost vacant. Zeke touched Sam's shoulder, but Sammy didn't even seem to notice. Dean waved a hand in front of his little brother's face, "Yo, Ground control to Major Tom. Sammy, any body home?"

Sam blinked and looked from Gadreel to Dean, "Oh, sorry, guess I spaced out for a minute."

"That was more than a minute, but if you say so. You sure your okay?"

_Not really. _

Sam shrugged, "I'm okay, Dean."

Sam knew without even looking Gadreel had given him a high level bitchface, but he didn't care. He had just spaced out. He had come back.

Bobby and John tried their hardest to sit as far away from each other as they could on Missouri's loveseat. Dean had taken it upon himself to sprawl out on the couch until Sam knocked his feet down, while Missouri sat down in her recliner. Gadreel kneeled on the floor next to Sam's side of the couch. Dean's suspicions about the guy rose when he sat with his back as straight as a pole, and his hands laid properly in his lap. He was more suspicious about the guy being a total dweeb over a wraith, but still.

John said, "We were about to head to the Roadhouse before you called, Missouri."

Dean didn't speak until he'd swallowed one the butterscotch cookies Missouri had so kindly put out. He didn't want to get hit with the spoon again, "Yeah, Ellen and everybody really wanted to see Sammy. After that we got to start looking more into the YED. No ones heard anything at all, so leads are practically zero, but we gotta try. You heard anything you know like on the psychic-y end?"

Missouri replied, "Boy, I'm a psychic; I don't go having tea with demons to find out any, and I can only sense energies and pick up thoughts. Why would you be looking into the yellow eyed demon. That evil bastard's gone."

John demanded, "What do you mean gone?"

Missouri's eyebrows shot up, "You mean you don't know? Well I certainly didn't pick up on that." She gave Sam a pointed look, and Sam could feel his resolve crumbling underneath it. He didn't want to have John on a wild goose chase either, but he wasn't sure how to break the news. There were bigger fish to fry than Azazel, but in order to do that he needed everyone on board to some degree.

Gadreel gave him a small nod when Sam turned to him.

Sam breathed in deeply, then blew the air out his nose.

He could do it.

"I killed Yellow Eyes."

The room erupted.

The men jumped out of their seats like they had been electrocuted. Dean seemed to be stuck in a mantra of 'What the fuck! What the fuck!' and John demanded answers and explanation of what he meant. After jumping up in disbelief, Bobby didn't shout and rave as John and Dean did. Any words seemed to die on his lips as he looked from the stoic Zeke, to Missouri's lowered head, to meet Sam's eyes.

He said inscrutability, "Son of a bitch."

John and Dean were almost incoherent as they tried to outshout each other. They stumbled over each other's words, and Sam made no effort to reply to either of their ramblings.

Bobby yelled, "WILL BOTH YOU IDJITS SHUT UP!"

John and Dean's mouths closed instantly.

Sam's gaze was steady; almost pleading to be believed.

Bobby gulped, "You're telling the truth. You really killed that demon. How the hell did you manage to do that?"

"You know the legendary Colt? Said to kill anything? I got it, and put a bullet into that son of a bitch." Sam said, "There's more than you know that dealt with him. He wasn't just any demon he was a general of Hell; he was the leader. Yellow Eyes was part of something bigger. I know how much you wanted to kill him, for mom, but he had plans for me, and other children like me. You know about them, don't you Dad?"

John nodded slowly, "I figured it was something bigger, but I just wanted the damn thing dead. I know about them. Sam-."

Dean looked from John to Sam, "What plans? What's the demon want with Sammy? What are you guy's talking about."

Sam wrapped his arms around himself, "It won't happen; not ever. The demon is dead now, and, and those plans won't ever be. His daughter is dead too, so she can't try to carry out them in his place. Yellow Eyes had plans to use me to lead a demon army. With him dead that won't ever happen. He didn't even see it coming; never considered you or me a threat. It's still bigger than that; much bigger."

Bobby asked, "How big we talkin' here?"

Sam's tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he spoke, "_Apocalyptic_. Billions of lives at stake. Fate of the world, no biggie."

Gadreel said, "I think it's actually quite a biggie."

Dean said, "Got that right. How exactly does this all involve us? Why us? What the hell did we ever do?"

_We were born. _

_We were cursed from birth. _

Sam wet his lips nervously, "You probably won't believe it was preordained; destiny."

"You're right. I don't believe that shit."

Gadreel stood up, "Simply because it has been written does not mean it is set in stone. Humans possess free will for a reason; it is not an illusion. You have choice and freedom. Many events have come to pass on the road towards so called destiny, but it shall not come to pass. To 'screw fate.' we shall write our own story from now on. Those who can defend those who cannot, must do so."

Sam nodded as his hands clenched his shirt a little tighter, "I was kind of a reluctant soldier before, but now I know this is my fight, so I'll fight. I don't know if you're suspicious of me or not, Dad, I know I'm not clean and I'm a freak. I get it. All this shitty destiny stuff; to hell with it. There's some things I know, and some things I don't, but what I do know is I have to fight in this war. Whether you fight with me is your choice."

Dean's eyes softened. Sam's large frame was hunched over; his arms wrapped around himself like it was the only thing keeping him together. He probably wasn't aware of his shaking.

Dean plopped down on the couch and scooted closer to his brother, "You must be stupid to think I'd let you do anything stupid without me. Killing frickin' Yellow Eyes; that's badass, but you should've told me. I'd rather get my ass handed to me with you, than have to identify your corpse or something. Shit, well I still don't know about that whole destiny thing, but you should know I always got your back, little brother."

_Please?_

John ran a hand through his hair and said the only thing that came to mind, "Shame I wasn't there to see the bastard die. Just don't try something like that again."

Sam's mouth twitched. John would never be too touchy feely, but he knew what his father was trying to say. Even though Dean protested adamantly, he was always a bit more emotional even if he couldn't understand his own emotions, he was more in tuned to Sam than John. As much as he protested to 'chick flick moments' they tended to happen often.

Missouri said, "I know you want alcohol, but I don't have any in the house."

Sam said, "We should be going. Thanks for everything, Missouri."

Sam's legs wobbled slightly as he stood up to give Missouri a hug. She pulled him in close and whispered in his ear, "Are you going to tell them everything else."

Sam whispered, "Not everything. I can't. I just can't. With time I'll tell them more. When they need to know. I won't lie."

"Already got a big one going now."

Sam glanced at Gadreel, "They won't believe me now. I'll tell them, just not now."

Missouri pulled back and held her face in her hands, "Take care of yourself, Sam."

She silently traded a few words with Gadreel. Sam had a good idea of what they were. Something involving her telling him to watch over Sam. Sam had gotten good at shielding his thoughts, and he kept many of his old memories behind a steel door, but he knew Missouri saw some. He knew she saw how much he was hurting. Sam knew he was, but he didn't need anyone else to know. Gadreel was an exception. He didn't want to burden anyone else.

He wanted to keep them all alive.

That was the only thing he wanted.

Missouri saw them all out, and from the drive back to the motel Sam kept quiet. He tried to clear his head. The feeling in his gut wouldn't go away, his muscles felt restless, and he couldn't even bring himself to speak to Gadreel. He simply sat with his head in his hands. John and Bobby let him be, but Dean was more persistent. He eventually just continued on with his one sided conversations. They were discussing plans to just drive up to Nebraska, but Gadreel had other plans.

"We must go to Lebanon, Kansas. It's of utmost importance."

Dean sat down the gun he had been cleaning, "You want to go to Lebanon? Is this for a hunt or something?"

Gadreel shook his head, "No, but we have a base there. It possess a plethora of information that could prove of use."

John glanced at Sam to see a small smile on his lips. He thought Sam was silently agreeing with the idea to go to Lebanon, "Alright, guess we'll go to Lebanon. We can hit the road tomorrow."

What John didn't know was Sam wasn't smiling because he agreed having the bunker information would be useful. He did think that, but that wasn't why he smiled.

Sam just wanted to go home.

He wanted Dean to see their home. The home Dean had made it into. It hadn't fully been home without Dean in it.

Bobby and John had died before the bunker had been found the first time, and although Henry Winchester would be a bit difficult for John, Sam knew Bobby would've loved the bunker had he lived to see it.

With Azazel dead there would be no Special Child battle royale, and devil's gate in Wyoming was still closed. Sam wouldn't die, and than Dean would sell his soul for him. Still, the date was nearing every closer. The day Dean had been dragged to hell. They just needed Lilith out of the way, and after her there would be only the angels to worry about. Abaddon would have to sit on the back burner.

Crowley would prove better an ally even though he was Lilith's right hand man at the moment. Crowley was ambitious as still simply King of the Crossroads, and would always play on the side he thought would benefit him. He wasn't the Crowley who cried about deserving to be loved after some anti-demonification, but he was still Crowley; Crowley always kept his deals. He didn't want Lucifer to rise. Aside from them there was just-

Sam felt like he had been punched in the stomach. How could he forget? How could he overlook _her_. There was the possibility Lilith wouldn't recruit her, but she was smart and loyal; Lilith would probably chose her for the mission. Sam felt bile rise in his throat as he remembered drinking her blood. Sam remembered how he had been manipulated. How he chose her over Dean.

He had been so stupid.

Never again; not ever again.

Sam's chest rose and fell quickly as his heart seemed to bang against his chest. He wouldn't mess up. He couldn't. Dean needed him. John needed him. Bobby needed him. He rubbed his damp hands on his jean clad thighs. There was a slight tingling in his legs, but he ignored it. He ignored the pain that rose in his chest, how his stomach seemed to twist itself, the tightness of his throat. How had he forgotten about _her_. How had he forgotten about Ruby.

_Fuckin' Ruby. _

Sam stood up, but stayed still when he realized how dizzy moving made him, "A blonde woman— says she's a hunter. Goes by the name Ruby. We need—need to find her."

Sam tried to swallow to clear his throat, but it wouldn't budge It was hard enough to just get those few words out. It felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't breathe. He deserved it. He had forgotten about Ruby. He wanted her dead. He wanted her dead now.

Any person with eyes could see the distress Sam was in. His voice came out shaky and weak. He shivered, and his face turned unhealthily pale. His eyes were glistened with un-shed tears. Dean didn't know what the hell Sam was talking about; some lady named Ruby, but he did know Sam needed him. Dean slowly moved towards Sam. He reached out for his brother with open arms, "Sammy, it's okay. It's okay. Just calm down."

Sam wanted to yell at Dean, 'NO, I'M NOT OKAY!' but he couldn't with the feeling that he was choking. He couldn't do it. He couldn't fail again. It was hard enough to get his thoughts straight, let alone speak, and he couldn't calm done. He couldn't control it; he was losing control. He had to bring himself back, but Sam just couldn't do it. Everything was become unclear, but Sam as sure he couldn't breathe. Sam met Gadreel's eyes, and he pleaded, 'Help me'.

Dean grasped Sam's shaking arms trying to keep him steady. Sam didn't seem to even notice him. Sam's breathing was getting even more ragged, uneven, and fast. A bead of sweat dribbled down his temple, and Dean wiped it away, "Sammy, Sammy!"

John out his gun down and rushed over to Sam, "I think he's hyperventilating."

Bobby replied, "No shit, I'll get him some water."

Dean asked, "Sammy, hey, can you hear me? Sammy, you gotta breathe."

Dean would know if Sam couldn't breathe, and this Dean didn't. It didn't help in the slightest.

Gadreel said, "Sam, how does one kill a wendigo?"

Distraction had proved efficient before, but now Sam didn't respond aside from his rough breathing.

Sam couldn't make out the words he was hearing anymore. It all sounded so muffled he couldn't make any sense of it. He couldn't keep track of anything with his eyes because it all had turned muted and blurry. He had almost lost all feeling in his legs before they gave out on him.

He shut down.

Dean was the first to catch Sam. He struggled slightly under Sam's full weight before Gadreel assisted him. The last thing Sam heard was Dean, John, and Bobby all shouting simultaneously, "Sammy!"

Sam's last conscious thought was no one seemed to call him Sammy anymore, so it was odd they did.

Generally, most people tend to only lose consciousness for a short time, and then recover fairly quickly. Gadreel knew Sam was not like most people. He knew Sam's family would not leave his side, so that idea was disposed of. John and Dean slowly eased Sam onto the bed, and tried to make him comfortable, but Gadreel mentally prepared himself for the worst. He did now know exactly what had caused Sam's panic, but that had been the worst one he had seen. He didn't know how Sam would react once he woke, but he had a feeling it wouldn't be good. Sam's memories and nightmares were a constant worry, and there was nothing he could do to prepare John, Bobby, and Dean for it.

It wouldn't be good at all.

Gadreel just knew he would have to do his best; for Sam. No one else knew of the horror's the young man had in his head and pain in his heart. Missouri understood a bit. She thought it was best to have him go to his loved ones, but Gadreel was now sure that would just be Sam's undoing.

Perhaps it would be for the best.

Perhaps he could only heal after the worst passed. A broken man trying to fix everything. It was too much. Gadreel was far too scared of heaven hearing him to pray to God, but he hoped Sam's loved one's would be strong enough. He knew Sam was; he knew the strength of Sam Winchester, and still occasionally marveled at it.

Still, even the strongest of people had to break at some point.

Sam would surely come back stronger.

He still worried for the others. It would surely hurt them, but Sam still needed them.

Sam told him that family sticks together no matter how bad it gets.

Gadreel rested his hand gently on Sam's leg.

It wasn't all okay, but they'd get by. They weren't on their own anymore.

Sam had Bobby and John; protective father types that would fight till their last.

Sam had his beloved brother Dean.

And he had Gadreel too.


	6. Chapter 6

_Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win. So, I win._

_"I'm inside your grapefruit, Sam. You can't lie to me. I see it all — how odd you always felt, how… out of place in that… family of yours. And why shouldn't you have? They were foster care — at best. I'm your real those times you ran away, you weren't running from them. You were running towards me. _

_You walk out that door; don't you ever come back!_

_You're one of the things we hunt._

_You're a monster, Sam, a freak!_

_I'm proud of us._

_Goodnight, Sammy _

Sam heard them all.

Lucifer's voice was common. Lucifer knew well enough what buttons he could push to get under Sam's skin. Lucifer was capable, but not nearly as capable as Dean. No one could hurt Sam like Dean could, whether he meant to or not. Dean knew _exactly_ what buttons to push. Dean loved him, and looked out for him, but no one could hurt him like Dean could.

He felt sweaty, tired, and raw, and like he had slipped out a daze

Sam couldn't remember all that well what happened.

His muscles and joints ached slightly. He wasn't exactly as old as he had been, so it that was probably a clue. Physical pain was manageable, so long as he didn't have to think of what had been. Sam tried hard not to dwell on the memories.

He groaned as he stretched out. A couple joints popped, but his limbs still felt too heavy. Sam hadn't even bothered opening his eyes yet because they felt so crusted over and it seemed like such a bother to open them. The light would hurt his eyes anyway if the small throbbing in the back of his head was anything to go by.

A gruffy low voice asked, "Sammy, you awake?"

For a split second Sam thought it was Dean; Old Dean. Then he remembered the voice didn't belong to Dean; it was John. John didn't usually call him Sammy; only Dean got to call him that. When he was younger Sam had wanted Dean to stop since Sammy sounded so childish, but he didn't mind it so much now.

Only Dean got to call him Sammy.

The realization that he desperately needed to piss, and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara along with the rancid taste of bile made Sam reconsider his plans to simply lay down and not do anything.

Sam rasped, "Water."

John called, "Dean, Sammy's awake!"

A plastic bottle was pressed to Sam's lips and Sam eagerly chugged the drink. It took a minute for him to register it was not water, but Gatorade. Dean hadn't even had his belt buckled when he came stumbling out of the bathroom. The bed shifted as Dean plopped down on the end. Gadreel took the bottle away from Sam once it was emptied.

John brushed Sam's fringe away from his sweaty forehead, "Hey, Sammy, how you feelin' do you need anything else."

Sam's eyelashes fluttered as he squirmed away, "Don't call me Sammy."

Dean was about to protest when Sam groaned, "Only Dean gets to call me Sammy."

Bobby snickered behind his hand, but John was stunned. Before he had gone to Stanford Sam had used to even get onto Dean for calling him Sammy. He said Sammy was chubby 12 year old. When Sam was about three years old he had kicked Caleb with as much viciousness as a three year old could muster when Caleb had called him Sammy. John had first assumed Sam only let family call him that. That was until John called him Sammy and received a kick to the shin as well. Dean came into the house after shooting practice, called him Sammy, and Sam looked at him like he hung the moon just like always; no shin kicking to be found.

Dean smiled softly, "Sammy, how do you feel?"

Sam rubbed his eyes as his peeked through his slitted eyes, "What happened? How long was I out?"

"You don't know?"

Gadreel replied, "You fainted, and generally most recover within an amount of 10 minutes when fainting, but you did not stir until 18 minutes and I believe it was because you were suffering from a night terror, not because you were waking. You thrashed around quite a bit and screamed, and acted aggressively; you were able to knock yourself out before we could contain you. If you're suffering from a headache that could be the reason due to you hitting your head on the headboard. The next time you awoke you were visibly very distressed and we had to turn you to your side as you vomited; it could've been due to the head injury."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, "I-I don't remember vomiting or trying to hurt you. Did I hurt you?"

Dean crossed his arms, "You seriously think you could hurt me? Nah, you didn't hurt anybody. Dad got a little scratch from those girly nails of yours, but he's used to those from when we used to wrangle diapers on ya."

John demanded, "Sam, what were you dreaming about that was so bad?"

It earned him a punch in the arm by Bobby.

Sam wiped his face with his hand, "It wasn't a vision if that's what you're wondering. I don't get them anymore since Yellow eyes died. I don't really remember what I was dreaming about."

The part about Yellow Eyes wasn't a lie; that's what had happened last time. The part about not remembering the dreams was a lie. Sam tried to ignore the lingering part of the dream. he didn't want to think about it, or remember. He knew none of them really needed to know. He didn't want to talk about them.

Dean said, "I heard you say my name a couple times."

Sam joked, "Oh wait I think I remember that part. You were wearing this polka dotted bikini and I was screaming in horror."

Dean chucked, "Very funny, bitch."

"Jerk."

As long as Dean was smiling it was okay. It was okay.

Bobby said, "Sam, you started hyperventilating after you started talking about some Ruby person. Boy, you've got to give us something."

_Tainted; addicted; disease; vice._

Gadreel explained, "Ruby is a demon and a formidable enemy, and could pose large threat. She could pose herself off as an assistance to us, as a hunter, but she's dangerous and an enemy."

_Poison. _

Sam remembered now. It had been forgetting Ruby that set him off.

Sometimes it was word, sight, a smell, a noise. He'd lose control.

Sam hated it.

He hated the loss of control, not being able to do anything about it, not being able to do anything aside from not being capable of breathing.

Sam would simply shut down.

He could recall it happening when he and Gadreel had first started traveling together. It had been a small thing. They had been in a Gas an' Sip picking up some things. Sam had just caught a peek of a dark haired man in the trenchcoat. He ended up curled up in a corner while the young cashier freaked out until Gadreel found him and by some miracle calmed him down.

For a second, he had thought it had been his buddy Cas.

It had happened another time when Heat of the Moment had played on the radio while he was waking up. The clock read 7:30 am. It had been a Tuesday. Sam jolted up in bed and he thought that he was in Broward County, Florida, and that the other person in the room had been his brother. Sam had gotten out of bed, but barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up.

They hadn't been anywhere near Florida.

The last time Sam could recall it happening on a large scale when they had first gone to the Bunker. It had been all fine for the most part, even when he passed the spot where he had died, until Sam stepped into Dean's bedroom. There was no Dean in it, and his weapons weren't mounted on the wall, and his books weren't on the desks, and his memory foam wasn't on the bed, and his picture of Mary hadn't been put in it's place of glory near the lamp.

Gadreel had caught him before he hit the ground.

He had bad days sometimes.

John crossed his arms, "Then we'll take out this Ruby bitch. Nothin' to worry about."

Dean nodded, "Yeah, Sammy. It'll be all good. We just need to get some food in you, get you cleaned up, and we don't have to go to that base of your's just yet. We can rest up and-"

"I'm not really hungry right now." Sam interrupted, "I'm doing better."

Sam got up slowly but surely. Bobby, John, and Dean all prepared themselves to help him up or catch him if he stumbled. Dean asked, "Where you headed, speedy?"

"I have to piss. You want to stand guard?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "Well you did have hit your head pretty hard so…"

Sam rolled his eyes, "I can cope for like 5 minutes."

Den said, "Two shakes when you're done."

Sam hobbled off to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed Dean grabbed Gadreel by the collar, "I want to know what's going on with my brother, and I want to know now."

Bobby warned, "Dean, let's not get hasty."

Zeke showed no signs of any attempts to fight back. John was almost startled at how calm the man was, but then again if the stories of Zeke were to be believed it was to be expected. Still, a threat to Sammy was a direct attack at Dean.

Zeke sighed, "I am not a practiced physician so I cannot give you a proper diagnosis."

Dean's grip on Zeke's shirt only tightened.

"Dean, your brother is hurting. He had been for some time. Your brother believes burning himself up will give others light, and it's hurting him. Bearing the weight is hurting him. Years of pain and mistakes have brought your brother humility and temperance, but at a cost. There is always a cost. I understand mistakes; I've made very bad ones, as has Sam. Your brother needs you to be his brother; his equal. That is what he wants and what he needs. He need to know, all of you, love him; you're his family."

Dean grumbled, "Damn straight, we're his family, and he needs me. Where do you come in?"

Zeke smiled softly, "Sam is my friend, and I hadn't many. My family all turned their backs on me after one mistake, but that was all it took. Sam gave me a second chance. I know you do not trust me, but hear this Dean Winchester, I mean no harm. I will simply guard him as I have for the past four years."

Dean's fingers fell from Zeke's shirt as he stared at the floor, "It's my job to look out for him."

"Sam feels the same way about you."

Dean's lips pursed, "I just want you to know that if you hurt my brother I will literally castrate you. You may be his boyfriend, and he trusts you enough to hunt with you, but you have to earn my trusts. Just know you hurt Sammy you're good as dead. Sammy's not that good at bouncing back when his heart gets broken."

"Cardiac damage of any kind could be fatal. An attempt at breaking such a thing could be anticipated from enemies, but certainly not I." Gadreel said.

As Sam walked out of the bathroom he asked, "My mouth tasted like shit so I had to brush my teeth. Did I miss anything."

"Your brother wishes harm to my testicles if I break your heart. I shall do no such thing." Gadreel answered honestly.

Dean glared at Gadreel.

Sam raised a brow, "Break my heart?"

John rubbed the back of his neck while Bobby took particular interest into a road atlas, "Uh, well, Dean was just um...He was just giving Zeke a warning about well...we know, Sam."

"Know what?"

Dean crossed his arms, "About your relationship. You and Zeke...we know. It just makes sense you'd want to go off with your boyfriend instead of your family. I get it, but-"

"Wait a minute." Sam interrupted, "You think I'm dating Zeke?"

Gadreel blinked, "I did not realize I was courting you, Sam."

Sam chuckled, "I'm not dating him. Zeke is probably my best friend, aside from you Dean, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now. There's too much to do. Where'd you get that idea?"

John grumbled, "I want my twenty bucks back."

Dean's cheeks were slightly dusted pink, "Sorry, man, I uh it wa a misunderstanding I guess. I mean other than being a weirdo he's not that bad looking, and well um, yeah. I would've put up with him for you if that was how it was."

An image of Castiel following ever so loyally after his demonic brother came to mind, but Sam shoved it away.

That was in the past.

Sam patted Dean's shoulder, "It's okay. Don't worry about it. We should get going towards Lebanon. I'm fine now."

Dean replied, "No you're not. You just frickin' fainted. We can take the time to rest up."

_There's not enough time. _

Sam said, "I really want you to see the bunker. It's awesome."

_There's not enough time_

_Be happy when you can_

Dean always had difficulty telling his baby brother no, "Fine, but you better not throw up in Baby."

Gadreel said, "Lebanon Kansas is the geographic center of the contiguous lower 48 states of the Unites States."

"If he's like that the whole 2 hour drive he's walking."

They were lucky John drove, or there would've been more threats to leave Gadreel on the side of the road. Dean had managed to help in stopping the car two times, but only two. John didn't have to yell that much. Sam was quiet, but it wasn't the tingling skin crawling quiet from before. His interactions were mostly limited to Dean and Gadreel. Bobby and John were trying not to make is noticeable they were walking around eggshells around him.

John was suspecting some intense PTSD, but he didn't want to point it out.

Bobby was just worried about how it all would affect the brother's dynamic.

Sam seemed like he was going to protect all of them at all cost, while Dean would do anything and everything for his little brother. He loved Sam like he was his own, but Bobby could feel something was up in his bones. Whether Sam would tell them everything or not, Bobby had no clue, but he knew Dean couldn't handle losing Sam again.

John glanced into the rearview mirror, "Sammy, where exactly are we headed in Lebanon anyway?"

Sam said, "The bunker was built between a WPA powerplant, and sits alongside a river. You have to go right and then left, and then down into the wooded area, and down the long dirt road."

Dean asked, "Please tell me your nothing bringing us out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere to feed us to a cannibals."

Sam asked, "The Hills Have Eyes or Wrong Turn?"

Gadreel read Sam's mind, "We're gonna be French fries. Human French fries!"

Dean groaned, "Dad!"

John yelled, "No one is getting eaten!"

John turned down the dirt road leading to the bunker. They parked in front of the Bunker entrance. Dean whistled, "Some pad you've got here."

Sam laughed. The Bunker really didn't look impressive on the outside. It was probably more comparable to the entrance to a sewer than a secret base.

Bobby got out of the car and scratched his head, "I was expecting a cabin sigiled up to your ears, but uh, I guess this is nice."

Gadreel said, "The Men of Letter's Bunker is one of the safest places on Earth warded against any evil created."

John regarded the concrete structure with suspicion, "I'm not going to take your word for it, but whatever helps you sleep at night."

Dean asked, "What the hell is the 'Men of Letters' is that your guy's lame book club or something."

Sam smirked, "Something like that. I'll explain when we get inside."

Bobby and John were prepared for a clean, but damp warehouse like area.

Dean just hoped there weren't any rats.

Gadreel added, "Also, just to let you know. It is impossible to track cell phone signals that come from within the bunker. The closest that one could get is outside of a twenty-mile radius."

Dean quoted, "Ninety-seven percent of nationwide coverage, and we get stuck in the three percent."

Entering the bunker all their ideas were blown out of the water.  
>Sam bit his lip when Dean grinned from ear to ear and exclaimed, "You've been holding out on us, Sammy. You found the frickin' batcave."<p>

John tried to pretend he wasn't utterly in awe, but Bobby immediately started going through some of the books, "Christ, boy, I don't even have some of these. You weren't joking when you said the place had a hell of alot of information."

Sam shrugged, "Some of the files have been collected for centuries including case files, there are also artifacts and relics, spells, . exorcisms, and information on hunters the Men of Letter's worked with. The building was built in 1932."

Gadreel sat down the duffle bags, "Aside from the computer room, the library, there is also the store room, the shooting range, garage, kitchen, a laboratory, dining room, an electrical room, a sick bay, a vast number of bedrooms and showers, a dungeon."

Bobby asked, "Who were these Men of Letters? You said something about hunters."

"The Men of Letters worked with hunters. They were like supernatural scholars. They were the brain and hunters were the muscle."

John snorted, "Why hadn't I heard of them then?"

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, "Nearly all of them were wiped out by a very powerful demon in 1958 who had infiltrated. I had to do a lot of extensive research, but I also learned something I think you'd want to know, Dad."

"What?"

Sam sighed, "You were supposed to be ordained into the Men of Letters, but it didn't happen. This whole thing everything Supernatural has been soaped into our lives more than you know. Destiny and all that shit. Your Dad, Henry, was a Man of Letters and the reason he didn't come back was because he was killed by a demon. Mom was also a hunter raised into a hunting family. The Campbells were killed by Yellow Eyes. She got out of the life, but then Yellow Eyes reappeared."

Sam couldn't bring himself to tell his father their mother had made a deal. That the deal had been the reason Azazel dripped blood into his mouth. He just couldn't do that to him.

John's fists clenched at his side, "Always believed that bastard had walked out on my mom. I...I knew something was wrong when Mary's parents had died so suddenly, but I had no does that all mean? Why?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up, "Mom wouldn't have been a hunter. I remember Mom; no way would she hunt."

Sam said, "She didn't want to. That's why she got married and tried to live a normal life. This is all apart of something bigger like I said. You're just going to have to trust me."

Gadreel nodded, "We must simply go step by step."

John seemed bristled about talking about Mary, but he brushed it off, "Well can't say I'd prefer this whole Men of Letter's thing over hunting, but this is...so does this place really have a dungeon?"

Dean cackled, and Sam punched him in the arm, "It was used for _demons, _Dean, get your head out of the gutter. I could show you guys around, although it's pretty big. You'll love the kitchen, Dean."

Dean didn't even try to contain his excitement, "Hey, if you and Zeke the Geek over there live here does that mean I get my own room? I haven't had my own room since I was like four, can I have one?"

"Of course." Gadreel replied, " You can chose any room you desire. Bobby and John are welcome to do so as well."

Dean took off running, "I'm going to get the best room!"

John chuckled as Sam and Zeke chased after him. Two long legged men racing after Dean and his bow legs. Dean seemed so much lighter.

Bobby tipped his hat up with his thumb, "You always did want Dean to have a home. Kid likes to put down roots as much as he loved the open road. What are you thinking about all this? You seriously going to just let Sam take the lead on this.'

John shrugged, " We don't have much a choice, Just have to make sure he doesn't run off again first."

"I don't think he will, Johnny, but I'm sure there will be hell to come."

John ran a hand through his hair, "It can wait. I got my boy back."

Bobby and John followed after Dean and Sam.

They still didn't know what had happened fully during the four years Sam was gone, but they got Sam back.

Dean threw the door open to room 11 and studied the interior critically.

Dean proclaimed, "This room is awesome. I claim it. I'm gonna decorate it and everything. It's going to be way cooler than yours, Sammy."

Sam's mouth twitched into a smile even though his chest hurt. The exact room. Dean chose the exact room from before.

Gadreel put his hand on Sam's shoulder, and Sam cleared his throat, "Sure, Dean. You know, you could probably put some memory foam on the bed. It would be good for your aging back."

Deann shoved Sam playfully as he walked into the room, "Shut up. That idea isn't half bad though. We gotta get a memory foam mattress. I can like hang some weapons here. Oh, hey, a record player. Nat King Cole; not bad. Need to get a Zeppelin record if there's a record player. Dean fiddled with the old record player, "This things old, but it still works."

Sam desperately hoped the Purgatory blade would never hang from the wall, and no King of Hell would take residence in their dungeon, but seeing Dean back in his room made it better. Maybe someday Castiel would be back where he belonged; with them. Sam knew it was better for Kevin to stay away, and hopefully his prophet-ness would never arise. Charlie was still just a young kid too. Sam didn't consider the fact that Bobby and John probably saw him as the same, but he didn't need to be treated like a kid.

He saw how John wanted to give him an order, to take the lead, to push Sam to the back behind him and Dean like they usually did, but he didn't know how to go about it. John didn't know what his next move was, or where he was to move next, and he was going to have to try and let his youngest son take the lead because of that. Sam saw how much that irking him, but it was better than having him dead.

Gadreel took Bobby and John to see the shooting range as Dean plotted out his bedroom.

Sam would never have to carry his brother's dead body back Dean would never ravage the bunker. He'd stop it, all of it.

Dean was happy, and safe, and healthy, and in the bunker with him.

Sam whispered, "Welcome home, Dean."

* * *

><p>You guys are all so amazing. Thank you for reading and reviewing and everything.<p> 


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